The Fall Of Jacob Del Garda (15 page)

Sophie's shriek almost burst his eardrums.

Tobin flicked a switch.

Down lights under the wall cupboards flooded worktops of glossy black granite.

Thrilled to find an almost naked Sophie in his kitchen, his gaze took a leisurely trip over the silk camisole she wore, which naturally drew his attention to what he could see of her breasts, and matching tiny French panties the colour of bitter chocolate that made him go rock hard.

Panties that showcased long, long legs.

Man, oh man, the girl had turned into quite a woman.

The look on her face reminded him forcibly of a deer caught in car headlights.

A hum of sheer lust thrummed through his system. Their earlier argument totally forgotten.

Tobin's tongue traced his teeth as he caught her eye.

He sent her a slow, sexy smile.

"Sorry," he said, not meaning a word of it. "I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard a noise."

Sophie simply stared up at him, hugging the bottles of water to her breast like a lover.

She took a step back.

He took a step forward.

And they continued the dance until her back slammed against the kitchen door.

By the glazed look in her eye and the whiff of wine, she was wasted.

Now, Tobin knew that if he were a gentleman, he should turn her right around and point her in the general direction of her bedroom.

Shame he wasn’t a gentleman then, wasn’t it?

Not one to pass up a golden opportunity when it presented itself, he carefully removed each bottle of water from her death grip and placed them on the kitchen table.

Turning to look at her, he kept his voice pleasant and easy.

"Thirsty, darlin?"

She shivered.

Which, he noticed, did interesting things to her nipples.

"I..." she said, staring at him as if he was the Prince of Darkness himself.  "I... ah... I was just getting water... for Gabriella."

"So you were."

She looked flushed.

And drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous.

And it took everything he had to restrain himself from taking a little bite of the hectic pulse rabbiting in her neck.

Annoyance battled through alcohol to light up those hazel eyes. "Stop looking at me like that."

He smiled into her eyes.

Then quite deliberately let his gaze wander down to her breasts, linger for a moment, then down, down, those fabulous legs to her toes. Toes that curled he noted with delight.

"I’m not dressed," she said.

He couldn't help but grin at her statement of the obvious.

"Mmm hmm. Since you mention it, I had noticed. And I must say you look amazing." He inched closer. She inched back. He sniffed. "You smell amazing, too. Jasmine, I think, and Eau de champagne."

His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the delicate flesh covering her collar-bone.

Sophie shuddered and kept her eyes fixed on to his torso, his ripped naked torso.

Then her eyes slid south.

He wore black pyjama bottoms made of fine cotton.

And in dazed amazement she watched his erection rise.

Oh God, he had a humungous shaft.

And her nipples sprang to attention so fast she gasped.

He stepped into her.

"I’m going to taste you. Just a nibble," he promised as he spoke into her mouth, then his teeth nipped her full bottom lip.

Before she recovered, he’d followed it up with a hot and wet searching kiss.

Then he leaned back to look at her.

Sophie smiled up at him dreamily.

Tobin grinned as he stared down into her beautiful face and wondered just how much wine she’d had.

Sliding his hands under her camisole, over the smooth skin of her back, and down over her tight ass, he pulled her into him.

It had been such a long time since he’d felt this woman between his hands, he wondered if making love to her would be as mind blowing as it had been before.

The mere thought shot a spear of lust in his shaft.

Sophie floated down a river of space and time, in a current of pure pleasure.

His mouth was on hers again.

And the kiss was sensational, all warm and soft.

Her fingertips moved freely over his strong back and down to his hips.

She pulled him closer.

A long, hot pull of unashamed lust throbbed low in her belly.

She sighed.

It felt so right.

His clean scent spun around her, a heady mix of spicy soap, shampoo, and pure aroused male.

His mouth became harder, his tongue more demanding, and she matched him in intensity.

God, he tasted fabulous.

Her tongue tangled with his and she moaned into his mouth as his hand slipped under her panties and kneaded her bare bottom.

He groaned into her mouth, and the sound flashed the perfect picture of him in her mind with a woman's head between his legs.

She tore her mouth from his. "No!"

Self-disgust made her push him away.

What on earth was she doing?

Was she crazy?

Trembling fingers touched lips swollen from his kisses.

Tobin stepped forward, eyes filled with intent, his brows drawn together.

She knew that face.

"No!" Lifting a finger, she shook her head, caught her breath. "Not a chance in hell, pal."

Bewildered, Tobin battled to breathe.

She'd been right there with him, giving it her all.

What the hell had happened?

His balls were so tight they were killing him.

Christ, the woman was killing him.

"What’s the problem?"

Furious hazel eyes spat fire into his.

"You’re a pitiful excuse for a man."

Stumped now, he gaped at her.

"You’ve lost me."

The time had come and it was long overdue, Sophie decided, to kick his sorry ass.

Hands on hips, she beaned him with a glare and lifted her chin.

"Gina Gregory!" she announced, as if she’d won the lottery.

Tobin didn’t care for the shock that shot relentlessly up his spine.

He eased back.

No way could Sophie know about what had happened with Gina.

No way.

He chanced a throw of the dice.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said.

And knew immediately he’d made a grave mistake as her eyes narrowed into slits.

That was a guilty look if ever she saw one, Sophie thought with disgust.

He’d just lied straight to her face.

Something hard and hot lodged in her throat.

She had to face up to the truth that the Tobin Gillespie she thought she'd known and loved had never existed. The man who stood in front of her was a cheat and now a liar.

And that lie cemented a deep hatred for him in her heart that was irrevocable.

It didn’t matter that her traitorous body was attracted to him.

The attraction was simply chemistry, pheromones and lust. And it was about time that she got over it.

Sophie's mind felt completely clear as a righteous anger mingled with disgust and a deep disappointment, in him.

For years she’d dreamed of this moment.

Played out the scenario so many times.

"Liar! I was there in your apartment. I heard you. I saw you."

But what happened next totally confounded her.

Tobin nodded, held up the palms of his hands in surrender.

"I’m so terribly sorry, Sophie. That you saw what happened." He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving her face. "I had no idea."

Her eyes went like chips of solid ice.

She took a step back and he winced.

Tobin recognised fury and a deep disgust with him that shook him to the core.

"I can explain," he said. "It’s not what..."

"Puleez, don’t bother. I wouldn’t have thought she was to your taste, if you’ll pardon the pun."

It cost him, but he kept his face carefully blank even as his heart bled for her.

He tried again.

"It wasn’t what it looked like."

Sophie bared her teeth in a blind rage that made him take a hasty step back.

The lid to the pressure cooker of her temper blasted off.

"I saw your face and I heard you groan. Believe me, you were having an orgasmic moment. At the hands, or should I say, at the mouth of a woman who appeared to be an expert."

The utter shock and horror on his face should have made her deliriously happy, not sick to her stomach.

What on earth was the matter with her?

This was supposed to be her defining moment.

Why did it feel so wrong and hateful?

It was his reaction she realised.

He was upset, very upset.

But guilty?

Not in the least.

She frowned.

His eyes held hers with an intensity that shook her.

"I repeat. I’m very sorry you saw that. There’s nothing more to say."

Sophie couldn't help but simply stare at him.

The man was unbelievable. Absolutely un-bloody-believable.

His eyes were riveted on her as she gathered up the water and walked away.

She’d walked away from him.

Again.

Tobin sank into a chair at the table.

All became clear.

The names she’d called him; media whore, alley cat, tom-cat.

His hand made a fist.

How would he ever forget that day?

That evil bitch, Gina.

He scrubbed his cheeks, his hair.

What a nightmare.

Gina Gregory had turned up at his apartment like a cat in heat. A small part actress, she’d won a large commercial contract advertising a huge coffee house chain. And she’d wanted to thank him, personally, for all he’d done for her.

It didn’t matter how clear he’d made it to the woman that he wasn’t interested. He'd told her he was in a relationship with Sophie and it was serious.

Holding a bottle of champagne Gina had shrugged, seemingly accepting the situation with good grace, insisting they have a drink to celebrate. And, against his better judgement, he'd agreed.

He'd woken up with the migraine from hell, with no memory of what had happened.

The rest became hazy and blank.

But a couple of days later, laughing, Gina had admitted slipping a,
“Little something”
into his drink, “
To take the edge off.”
A little something called Rohypnol. Apparently, “
Everyone did it.”

That was when he realised that the woman was utterly ruthless with no moral compass. What Gina Gregory wanted, Gina Gregory got.

Tobin had got rid of her, right out of his life and out of his company.

And he should have gone to the police. With the benefit of hindsight and time he knew that would have been the right thing to do, but he hadn’t.

And Sophie had seen it all?

His fist rubbed the ache between his ribs.

Dear heaven.

He stood and kicked the chair.

Goddamn it!

And hopped on one leg as agony speared up his foot.

He'd probably broken his fucking toe.

"Tobin?"

He spun to find Jacob, dressed in nothing but jogging bottoms, staring at him in concern.

Half a bottle of Jameson’s later...

Jacob shook his head.

Face composed and voice level, his eyes showed naked fury.

"I have heard of this happening. Mainly to women. But I know it happens to men, too."

After unburdening himself, Tobin felt marginally better, but he'd no idea how to resolve the issue with Sophie.

Jacob continued, "It was not your fault."

"I know that. But, thanks."

Jacob didn’t want his gratitude.

"Do not mention it. If I can help in anyway, I will. I did not realise you and Sophie had been that close," he muttered, glad to be talking about another man’s disastrous love life for once, rather than his own.

"It was more than close."

"And now?"

Tobin shook his head.

"She’s disgusted with me. She hates me. And I don’t blame her."

He rubbed his chest as if in pain.

"Sophie has always struck me as a very fair-minded person," Jacob said.

"She is," Tobin agreed. "But get on her wrong side and she can be volatile."

"Are you serious about her?"

Tobin didn’t mind the question. He just wasn’t at all comfortable with the answer.

"I am. Even though I’ve always avoided,
the one
, trap. Sophie’s always been it for me."

"Then there is only one thing to do. Be honest, that is my advice."

Tobin met Jacob’s serious dark eyes, and read the deep unhappiness, the weary despair.

"Yeah, my son. And how is that working out for you?"

Jacob swallowed the rest of his drink, slammed the glass on the table.

"It is not."

Tobin just nodded and mirrored the move.

"Women!"

"
Si
."

Tobin sighed even as he narrowed his eyes.

"What we need... is a plan." He leaned forward. "Have you noticed how
they
always hold all the cards?"

Jacob frowned. "We have choices. We can always walk away, give up and leave them to it."

He laughed at the shocked look on Tobin’s face.

"Not a chance, sunshine."

"Okay," Jacob agreed. "Then we need to take back control of the situation."

"And how do we do that?" Tobin wanted to know.

Jacob poured a couple of fingers of whisky into each glass.

"Begging for forgiveness might be a start."

"Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine," Sophie sang gaily, dragging the comforter off her sister.

She spun to the window to haul back the curtains.

"What is
wrong
with you?" Gabriella growled, peering through bleary eyes at the time on her cell phone.

Sophie clapped her hands.

"Let’s get this shop-‘til-we-drop day on the road."

Gabriella turned onto her belly and groaned into her pillow.

Sophie spanked her smartly on the ass.

"Ow!"

Gabriella sat and energetically tossed the pillow at her sister’s head.

"Missed me," Sophie sang. "By the way you have track marks on your cheek. Not a good look."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Gabriella stumbled into the bathroom, peered into the mirror.

In her head, she could imagine her twin yelling, "Gotcha."

She didn’t have track marks on her face.

Bitch.

She stripped, stepped into the shower, yanked on the tap.

Sophie had always been the morning person in the family.

To be totally honest, Sophie was a morning, afternoon and evening person.

"She has too much energy," Gabriella muttered under her breath. "Even as a child."

Shampooing her hair, memories surged into her mind, the last birthday before her parent’s car accident. They’d been seventeen and Gabriella remembered that day as one of the most perfect of their lives.

Her mother had given them silver bracelets with their names engraved on the inside.

Their father, so tall and handsome, had hugged them close.

They’d always been,
“His girls.”

Tears of loss stung her eyes. God, she'd missed her parents so very much over the years, but never more than now.

Financially, they’d been well taken care of.

Sophie had continued with her studies, while Gabriella had been scouted and offered a modelling contract and that’s when she’d met Tobin. She still found it hard to believe he was a cheater, that he would do such a thing to Sophie. But then nothing was impossible. Especially in the world of celebrity. She knew there were times temptation was hard to resist, cheating happened all the time.

However, she knew Tobin Gillespie, he simply wasn’t like that. And he’d loathed Gina.

In fact, he’d not only dumped her as a client, he’d blacklisted her, too.

As Gabriella rummaged around her closet looking for her favourite white skinny jeans, she decided that when they returned from their shopping trip, she'd have a little word with Casanova. Then she dragged a black vest over her head, and thrust her feet into black leather ballet pumps.

Of course, that was after she’d flayed him alive for betraying her to Jacob and dragging him into this. However, no matter how hard Gabriella tried, she couldn't stay angry with Tobin. He'd always had her best interests at heart, but she’d still give him hell.

He deserved it.

The day was fabulous.

Gabriella stepped onto the deck and inhaled the scent of autumn. The leaves, the pine trees, the beautiful blue sky and the lovely nip in the air.

Padding out onto the poolside deck, she crunched an apple she found in a fruit bowl and lifted her face to the morning sun.

She could do this. Be strong and get through whatever lay ahead of her.

The key was to take it one small step at a time.

But the trouble was she had a vivid imagination, which helped her creatively in her career. However, with her illness, that imagination was a curse rather than a blessing.

The scent of fresh coffee on the breeze turned her towards the house like a bloodhound on a scent.

She entered the kitchen and shook her head. Sophie was killing a Paulo Nuttini song about new shoes.

Bless her heart, her sister couldn't carry a tune in a pail.

"If you continue caterwauling, you’ll wake up the men."

Sophie just grinned and filled a couple of mugs with coffee.

"You look brighter this morning. No sign of a hangover. Go us! We need to get some flesh on that bony ass of yours."

She handed Gabriella a plate of chocolate donuts, and carried the coffee tray outside.

"Yuk," Gabriella said. She made a face. "I can’t eat these first thing in the morning."

She picked up an orange from the bowl, and Sophie whipped it out of her hand.

"Nope. You need sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. And fat. Lots and lots of fat. I’m going to build you up."

"You’ll make me sick."

Sophie shot her a dazzling look, spoke with a mouth full of donut,

"You’re already sick."

She slurped her coffee.

"Your manners are disgusting," Gabriella told her, sounding like their late mother. "I don’t feel ill today. I feel fine."

Sophie licked her fingers and grinned.

"Okay. Since you feel so fine, we’ll have a girly day, without the men, and we'll do lunch, too. There’s a fabulous seafood restaurant in town. We can shop until we drop."

"Good thinking, Batman. But I don’t need tons of clothes."

"I do."

Gabriella gaped at her. "You arrived with three huge suitcases. What’s in them?"

Since she was the oldest, Sophie patted Gabriella on the head and laughed at her pained expression.

"Boring cargo pants, jeans and T-shirts. It’s been ages since I bought girly stuff."

She strode into the kitchen, picked up the stick of chalk, and wrote on the wall blackboard.

‘Gone shopping. See you when we see you.’

And signed it with a smiley face.

Two hours later, they strode arm in arm through the designer shops and cafes of London filled to the brim with the beautiful people enjoying the last days of an unseasonably warm autumn.

The twins were oblivious to the admiring stares of every male with a heartbeat.

Individually they were striking.

As a pair they were devastating.

Sophie had spiked up her short strawberry blonde hair, which made her look funky and carefree.

And Gabriella’s hair ran in a silky waterfall down to her waist.

They'd had a wobbly moment in
Zara
when Sophie spoke openly about Gabriella's breast reconstruction after a mastectomy with the sales assistants and what styles worked. Buttons, they were told, were the way to go. Loose, not clingy designs and natural fabrics were chosen.

One of the girls had a sister who’d just undergone the same procedure.

A customer chipped in with the story of her mother and how she looked two years down the line. When Gabriella thought about her own negative reaction and fear, the upbeat and positive attitude of the women who were total strangers shamed her.

The sales assistants found her a selection of tops and dresses, which were comfortable and looked good, but still felt sexy.

She’d hadn’t felt sexy in months.

Later, in Covent Garden, they sat at a smart bistro specialising in sea-food.

Gabriella sipped a fruity, dry white wine and eyed her sister over the rim.

"What?" Sophie demanded as they tucked into a fresh calamari salad.

Gabriella, she was delighted to see, looked a lot more relaxed, and a teeny bit dazed. Perhaps they needed to go easy on the wine.

"You," Gabriella said in a stage whisper. "There’s no filter in your brain, is there? A thought pops into your head and right out of your mouth."

"Have a drink," Sophie suggested as she filled their water glasses to the brim. "You look tense. What particular thought are you talking about?"

Gabriella glanced at the tables either side of them, leaned closer, and lowered her voice.

"My breasts. You know what I mean."

Intrigued, Sophie leaned closer.

"What about your fabulous new breasts?" she whispered, and tried not to grin as her sister gave her a prissy look.