Thrilled To Death (23 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Apodaca

BOOK: Thrilled To Death

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I relaxed. “No.”

He pulled closer. “You look hot.”

He smelled of male heat and soap. Very Gabe. Very sexy. “Really? 'Cause I've had some complaints.”

“Your mom?”

I laughed and nodded. “'Fraid so.”

“No complaints here.” He leaned closer, brushing his mouth over my ear. “I want to peel that top and skirt off you. We'll keep the boots on.”

My heart kicked up to raw-lust speed. “Gabe! There's a party going on.”

“If I behave now, promise to keep the boots on later?”

Swear to God.
I thought I might burst into flames. “Yes.”

He lifted his head and smiled. It was a wicked grin. “I'll hold you to it.”

“Gabe.” Grandpa came up to us and said, “How's your brother? Did you tell your mother hello for me?”

Gabe let go of me and answered, “Mom says hi back. Cal's fine. He's taking a little time off to decide his future.” He looked at me. “And he said to tell Sam thank you.”

I was surprised. “Me? What for?”

Gabe arched an eyebrow. “He didn't tell me the specifics, he just said the two of you had a talk and it helped him sort some things out.”

Cal must have meant the night he came into my bedroom after Shane was murdered. He'd been the one who told me where Gabe was, told me how much Gabe loved me, and gave me the courage to go after him. “He helped me too.”

“Yeah? Good.” That was all Gabe said. Didn't ask, didn't push. Just accepted me into his family. Then he turned his attention to Grandpa. “Sorry I missed the show, Barney. Sam said it was videotaped.”

“You can see the tape anytime. Family comes first.” Grandpa reached out and squeezed my arm.

Blaine walked up. “The party is breaking up. I think I'm going to head home.”

I nodded. I had apologized to Blaine for bringing Lola on as a client without talking to him. She wasn't a client any longer. The problem was that she thought she was working for us. All night, Blaine had ignored her.

But it was time to resolve the issue. “Where's Lola? I'll talk to her now and tell her she's going to have to find another job.”

“Not tonight, Sam,” Blaine said.

I blinked. “Why not?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked around, not meeting my gaze.

Grandpa answered, “Blaine's probably thinking that Lola worked hard to help pull off the magic show tonight. She's been helping us all. Then she worked as my assistant, and she was darn good. Let her have the glory tonight.”

“Humph,” Blaine said.

Was he agreeing? I stared at Blaine, but he appeared extremely interested in the new paint on the wall behind me. Every time Lola and Blaine crossed paths in the last couple of days, there had been a flare-up between them. I thought Blaine couldn't wait to be rid of her.

Yet he wanted her to have her night of success.

Hmm. “Okay, I can talk to her next week.”

“Humph,” Blaine repeated, and wandered off to leave.

I looked at Grandpa.

He shrugged. “Romance is your business. Magic is mine.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Thanks for making this night happen, Sammy. Night.”

I hugged him. “I love you, Grandpa. Good night.” I watched him gather up the boys and leave. All three of them were laughing and chatting as they walked to the Jeep.

We saw the rest of the guests out, then I had one thing left to do. I looked at Gabe. “Let's go see your conference room.”

He closed the new miniblinds over the windows and locked the door. Then he turned to look at me. “Lead on. I like the view from behind you.”

I rolled my eyes and turned around to walk past Blaine's desk and Gabe's reception area, while trying not to be self-conscious. I was a thirty-something soccer mom with two teenage sons and cellulite.

Gabe was a smokin'-hot ex-cop. No fat on him.

I turned left into the hallway and then right into the conference room.

It was long and rectangular, with a sink, small refrigerator, and a coffeemaker. The table was actually something I found at an estate sale. It was long and mahogany, very strong. I had managed to get eight matching chairs. I doubted Gabe would need more than eight chairs. The walls were painted a light pecan like his office.

The wall behind the door had four pictures I'd spent weeks hunting down and having made for him.

Gabe stopped behind me, taking it all in.

I had trouble getting my breath. My stomach tightened.

“Where did you get those pictures?” he asked softly, his voice brushing over my hair.

He still stood behind me, hadn't moved. “Old newspapers. Grandpa helped me search them out online. We bought copies, then I had them enlarged. Your father was in the newspaper a few times.” They were prints of his dad fighting fires. I'd found four black-and-white prints in old newspapers that looked pretty good once I had them enlarged, matted, and framed.

Did he like them?

He stepped past me and stood in front of the prints. He didn't say anything.

I walked up to stand next to him. “You can take them down; do whatever you want with them.” Maybe it was too personal for him. Or too painful. Or maybe it was a silly, female thing.

Moments passed.

Gabe tore his gaze away from the pictures and turned to me. “I want them exactly where you put them. They are special.” He reached for me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. “You are special.”

Gabe was not a man of words, so these words had a quality to them. A magic. “You like them?”

He smiled. It was a rare smile for Gabe, soft and full of something poignant. “I do. I'm blown away that you knew how much I would like them.”

It was my turn to smile. I had no idea how all this was going to work out. Combining offices, training for my PI license, running Heart Mates, loving Gabe. The potential for pain was tremendous. But right now, this moment gave me, us, magic.

I let go and stepped back. “It's my night to give you what you like.” I stuck out one leg and looked down. In a teasing voice, I asked, “Now what were you saying about my boots?”

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Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2005928270

ISBN: 978-0-7582-9117-2