Power Shift Kelly Jamieson Gabe’s lifestyle as a Master Dom is leaving him empty and cold. Everything else in his life seems to be falling apart too. Taking a break from the BDSM scene seems like a good idea—until he meets the perfect submissive. Reagan has started a new life as a strong, independent woman. The last thing she wants is to be trapped in another controlling relationship. Letting a dominant man like Gabe into her life could cost her everything she’s worked so hard for. But Reagan sees the emotions Gabe’s keeping locked inside, and she knows how to unlock those feelings. Gabe is determined to never lose control, show weakness or reveal his secrets. But the lust he shares with Reagan breaks through his walls. Faced with a bleak, lonely future, he must somehow find the strength to let himself be vulnerable before he can experience the joy and sweetness of love.
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Power Shift ISBN 9781419934360 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Power Shift Copyright © 2011 Kelly Jamieson Edited by Briana St. James Cover art by Dar Albert Electronic book publication July 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
POWER SHIFT Kelly Jamieson
Dedication This one is for you, Bree, for all your patience and help in making my books so much better!
Kelly Jamieson
Chapter One Gabe Pejovic stood at the bar at Le Château and surveyed the erotic lounge. Couples, threesomes, even a foursome sat on couches and chairs, some talking, one couple kissing, the threesome over in the dim corner engaged in some heavy petting. Gabe lifted one eyebrow and one corner of his mouth simultaneously and let out a breath, then drank some of his Coke. None of the scenes affected him. Nobody here appealed to him. Fuck. He might as well be dead for all the feeling he had. It had been like this for months. He’d come in, find someone to play with, go through the scene mechanically. Sure, the subs all got what they wanted. But it left him feeling empty, hollow and cold. He wasn’t sure why he came any more. Tonight he didn’t even want to do anything. But he had nothing much else in his life, sad to say. When he wasn’t at the office or a job site working, he was at home in his huge, empty house. Empty, other than his dog. What had happened to his life? Him, the Master Dom of Le Château, the one people came to for advice and mentoring. He used to get so much satisfaction from that. Until he’d made the mistake of falling in love with a play partner. He sighed again and looked around. The music of Depeche Mode pulsed around him. Subtle red and gold lighting created a sexy, intimate atmosphere. The threesome who’d been making out rose to leave. Likely heading to a private room. He used to have friends. A social life. How had that slipped away from him? Yeah, his business took up a lot of his time. But shit, even that was going down the toilet. Maybe a slight exaggeration. But they had been having business problems lately, dammit. He liked control, no doubt about that, but lately it felt like so many things were out of his control. “You look bored out of your mind.” Gabe turned to look at Joe Scaletta, another club member. “It shows, huh?” Joe grinned. “Oh yeah.” “What’re you gonna do about it? Offer me a threesome with your lovely fiancée?” “Not a chance, buddy.” Joe grinned. “What are you doing here?” Joe hadn’t been around much lately. Joe’s smile turned carnal. “Tara wanted to play here tonight.” “Ah. Where is she?” “Red room. I said I’d get us drinks.” 6
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Joe ordered from the bartender, then turned back to Gabe while he waited. “So what’s the problem? Why so bored looking?” Gabe was used to being the one who helped others. He wasn’t used to being the one with the problem. So he just shrugged. Joe ran his tongue over his teeth beneath closed lips, looking thoughtful. “You know, if it’s not doing anything for you, maybe you need to take a break from here.” Gabe frowned slightly and looked at the other man, probably ten years younger than him. Although Joe had moved to Santa Barbara not that long ago, Gabe knew he came with a wealth of experience from…where was it? San Francisco? “You don’t do anyone any favors if you’re bored and jaded,” Joe continued. “You can’t look after someone else until you look after yourself.” “I know that.” Joe nodded. “Yeah. I know you do. Sometimes you just need a reminder, though.” Gabe shrugged, knowing Joe had a point. He just didn’t know what else he’d do if he weren’t there. Not that he was going to admit that out loud. “You’ve got a good reputation here,” Joe continued, accepting the drinks from the bartender with a smile and a thank you. “Don’t wreck it by letting stuff mess with your head. Is it a woman?” Gabe sighed and looked down at the bar. “Yeah. Sort of.” Joe rested a hand on his shoulder in a brief gesture of sympathy. “It sucks. I know.” “She’s happy.” Joe nodded and picked up the drinks. “You’re a good guy, Gabe. But take my advice. Get outta here and get your shit together before you mess someone else up.” Gabe watched the other man cross the room, tall, muscular, dark haired. Female and male heads turned to watch him. Joe’d never been a big part of the scene there at Le Château, having met Tara Lockhart and become exclusive pretty damn quick, but he seemed like a straight up guy. Gabe respected that. “Hi. Need another drink?” Gabe looked up at the man who’d paused beside him at the bar. He didn’t immediately respond as he studied the man, taking in his short spiky blond hair, open smile and muscled chest and arms bare beneath an open vest. As he met dark brown eyes, the guy held the eye contact briefly, then dropped his gaze. “Sure,” Gabe said, pushing his empty glass across the counter. “You look totally bored,” the guy said. Gabe swallowed a sigh. Christ, he was a sad case. “Hey, I’m Julian.” “Gabe. And yeah—I am totally bored.” “That’s too bad. This place rocks.” “You must be new here.” 7
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Julian grinned, then turned to the bartender who’d appeared. “I’ll have a lemon ginger iced tea. And he’ll have…” Julian lifted an eyebrow at Gabe. “Coke. Lots of ice.” The bartender moved away and Julian looked back at Gabe. “Yeah. Brand spanking new. Pun intended.” Gabe almost smiled. “You like spanking? Or you like to be spanked?” Julian did smile. “I like both.” Gabe nodded. The guy was coming on to him. How about that. “I also like to suck cock.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” Julian’s gaze dropped to the fly of Gabe’s jeans. Gabe hadn’t even bothered with fetish wear, but he was such a long time club member they’d let him get away with it. His cock twitched at the other man’s perusal. Jesus! Nothing appealed to him tonight and yet he was reacting to some new sub’s unsubtle come-on. “And I’m told I’m pretty good at it.” Julian shifted closer beside Gabe at the bar, nudging Gabe’s groin with his hip. Gabe studied him again, now able to see the golden stubble dusting his square jaw, able to smell the guy’s aftershave, a light citrusy scent. The bartender served their drinks. “Wanna go sit down somewhere?” Julian asked. Gabe almost said no, then shrugged. “Sure.” He led the way to the couch in the corner where the threesome had sat earlier. “How long have you been coming here?” Julian asked. “Forever,” Gabe said dryly. Julian gave him a look that told Gabe the guy might be new there but he wasn’t innocent. What was he doing? He should’ve told Julian to get lost. He wasn’t into guys, never had been. He was leading him on because he was bored and the guy was submissive, and that wasn’t fair. He opened his mouth to say so, when Julian’s hand landed on his thigh. Gabe blinked. “You’re not that old,” Julian said, in a low husky voice. “But I’m guessing you have a lot of experience.” Gabe didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Julian’s hand slid higher, then rubbed over his cock. Their eyes met and held, and then once again Julian lowered his gaze. Gabe felt a rush of blood to his groin. He wasn’t hard—but he wasn’t soft either. Julian’s submissive manner pulled at something inside him. Maybe all he needed was something…different. “Let me,” Julian whispered. “Let me suck you.” 8
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He slid to the floor, turned to set his drink on the small table nearby then laid his hands on Gabe’s knees. Gabe watched him, almost feeling like he was watching a movie, like he wasn’t really involved. But he didn’t stop him. Julian’s hands slid up his thighs, slowly, and Gabe leaned back into the couch cushions. But when he closed his eyes, an image flashed into his mind—another man, on his knees before him, tears running down his face. Gabe’s heart lurched into a wild rhythm and his hands curled into fists. He opened his eyes to focus on Julian, on the here and now. His heart beat so hard he couldn’t breathe and sweat popped out on his forehead. He watched Julian unzip his fly as if from a distance, not feeling anything, a buzzing in his ears. More images flashed into his mind. Leering faces and ugly laughter. Guns. Pressure. He swallowed hard, feeling his heartbeat in his throat, the buzzing in his ears becoming a roar, nausea rolling in his gut as Julian reached into his jeans and found his cock. Julian’s face blurred into another face, another man’s mouth on him. Gabe’s muscles jumped and twitched as he was sucked into in a storm of pounding violence and fear. With a harsh cry he jumped to his feet, pushing the man away. He barely saw Julian through the dark tunnel his vision had become, fumbled at his jeans with shaky fingers, shaking his head. “Hey…” Julian sat back. “What…” But Gabe didn’t stop to listen to him or to talk to him, to offer any words of explanation or apology, and in a rush of adrenaline and frantic terror he fled the club.
***** Reagan Somerville smiled as she walked up the brick sidewalk, the late afternoon warm on her face. Traffic cruised up State Street just beyond the planters overflowing with lush greenery and flowers, and people crowded the sidewalks, meandering in and out of the little shops, sitting outside on small patios having happy-hour drinks. She passed a pub just as a raucous burst of laughter burst out of the open windows. She was on her way to a Young Professionals of Santa Barbara meeting being held in a restaurant near her office. She’d joined the group soon after moving to Santa Barbara two years ago, mainly because she didn’t know a soul in town and knew she had to develop a network of business connections. But in that time, she’d gotten involved with one of the many charities the group supported and it had turned into much more than business networking. She’d also made new friends in the Young Professionals group, including Tara Lockhart and Tori Markham.
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Reagan had left everything in her old life behind when she’d left San Francisco two years ago and things had been pretty lonely for a while after she’d arrived in Santa Barbara. Making new friends was scary for someone who’d basically had her friends picked out for her her whole life…but having those friends was very nice. The meeting would feature drinks and appetizers, and then she and Tara and Tori were going to have dinner together. This was the first time the three of them had ever gone out together and she was looking forward to it with cautious anticipation. Tori was about her age and was a high-powered executive at a management and marketing consulting company, and Tara, a few years younger, ran a company that grew olives and manufactured olives and olive oil. They were both successful businesswomen in the city, and Tara and her fiancé Joe had just approached Reagan about designing a new building for their olive company, the first job she’d brought in all on her own since she’d joined Pacific Design. She walked into the restaurant and made her way to the private room at the back. She smiled and greeted the people she’d met—acquaintances, friends who invited her to dinners and parties and even a few men she’d dated, although she was in no way looking for any kind of romance in her life. A little sex once in a while was good, though. Hey, a girl had needs. She accepted a glass of wine, but passed on the snacks until after she’d given her talk. She’d agreed to give a short speech that night to the group about one of the success stories from Deliverance, a rescue mission for people struggling with addiction, poverty, homelessness and crime. The Young Pros group sponsored various charities and since Reagan had learned about Deliverance she’d gotten involved with some volunteer work there and had met some amazing people. She mingled and chatted with fellow members until Connor MacArthur, the current president of the board of the Young Pros group, took the microphone. Reagan moved closer to where he stood, listening as he made a few announcements, her palms a little clammy and a few flutters in her stomach. Public speaking wasn’t her favorite activity but this was just one more hard thing she was determined to do. Then he introduced her and she moved to the microphone with a smile. When she’d moved to Santa Barbara and started her new life, she’d set herself challenges, pushing herself to do one hard thing every day if she could. At first, everything had been hard. Applying for jobs and going for job interviews, when the last time she’d done that had been nearly ten years ago. Renting an apartment when she’d never lived on her own. Paying bills when someone had always paid the bills for her. But everything got easier, and now she had to work to find things that were hard, like yesterday, when she’d made herself put air in one of the tires of her car. The cute guy at the gas station had offered to do it for her and she’d almost let him because she was nervous about the tire exploding in her face, but no—that would have been too easy. She had to do it herself. Today’s challenge was getting up in front of a group and making a speech.
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It was all relative—her marriage falling apart had been hard. Leaving San Francisco and her whole life there had been hard. Leaving her parents had been hard. Making new friends had been hard. Speaking in front of this group was a piece of cake, really, compared to all that. And it helped that she was talking about something about which she was passionate. She spoke to the group about Deliverance and their mission, and then talked briefly about Jelana, who she now counted as another friend. Jelana had lived a difficult life, growing up in a family with a history of alcoholism, a life full of pain and anger that had resulted in her own addictions. After the birth of her son she’d managed to stay away from drugs for a few years, but difficult times caused her to return to them. She’d ended up stealing to support her and her son, eventually landing in jail. With the help of counselors at Deliverance she’d managed to turn her life around, find employment and reconnect with her now teenage son. Reagan didn’t speak about how addictions had touched her life. That was too personal, and still too raw, but she knew her own emotions came through in the story she told. She knew why working with people like Jelana was so important to her, but she didn’t necessarily want the rest of the world to know. Her talk was short, but when she finished she saw a few women there wiping tears and the resounding applause in the small room told her she’d moved people. And that was really what it was all about. She turned the microphone over to the vice-president of the group, letting her nerves settle down and her adrenaline levels return to normal while he made a short speech, and then Karina Booker, the events director, announced details of the next mixer. “Hi, Reagan.” She turned to see Kevin Wynne, a man she’d gone out with a couple of times. He stood there smiling at her, holding his drink. “Nice speech.” “Thanks.” She returned the smile. She liked him. He was a few years younger than her, but seemed like a nice man. He lived in Ventura, but had joined the group as he was trying to expand his construction business into Santa Barbara. “How’ve you been?” “I’ve been good, thanks. Really busy, though.” “Sounds like you keep busy with your work at Deliverance.” “I enjoy it.” “We should have dinner this weekend,” he suggested. “I’d like to see you again.” She smiled, and nodded. “Okay. That would be nice.” A dinner date on the weekend would work perfectly for her. “Great job, Reagan.” Tara Lockhart came up to her. “Thank you for that.” “Thanks.” Reagan gave her new friend a warm smile back. “You know I think Jelana’s pretty special. And she’s not the only one.”
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“I’ll call you,” Kevin said, touching her arm. She nodded and smiled as he moved away. Tara followed him with her eyes, then turned back to Reagan. “He’s cute.” Reagan grinned. “We’re having dinner this weekend.” “Awesome. Anyway, your talk was great. It’s so important to hear the success stories,” Tara said. “You have an amazing ability to help people, Reagan.” Tara’s words pleased her, though she wasn’t sure they were entirely true. Helping people sounded generous and unselfish, but everyone got something out of giving―didn’t they? Tori joined them just then, offering her congratulations on Reagan’s speech and the conversation moved on to where the three of them were going to have dinner. “Should we just stay here?” Tori asked. “Or do you want to go somewhere else? There’s a nice little Mexican place a couple of blocks down the street.” “Doesn’t matter to me,” Tara said. “I’m fine with whatever,” Reagan replied. The three women looked at each other and burst out laughing. “I make decisions all damn day,” Tori said with a smile. “And something as simple as where to have dinner defeats me.” Tara nodded. “Me, too. Reagan, you decide.” “I usually don’t have trouble with decisions either,” she said. “Let’s stay here. We’re right here, we don’t have to drive and the food is good.” “Great.” The mixer was starting to break up so they moved out into the main dining room to see about getting a table. “This is so fun,” Tori said once they were seated. “I need to get out more.” “Joining this group has been great for that,” Tara agreed. “I used to work way too hard. Of course, Joe makes sure I don’t do that as much as I used to.” She smiled and Reagan found herself envying the love and warmth she saw on Tara’s face as she spoke about her fiancé. “Yeah, same with Dev,” Tori said, looking over the menu. “Although he works too damn hard himself sometimes.” “He’s a doctor, isn’t he?” “Yeah. And he’s working extra shifts at the hospital to pay off his student loans.” “Yikes.” “Yeah. But he’s pretty awesome.” And Tori’s smile held the same love and affection Tara’s had. “Let’s share a bottle of wine. What do you both like?” They discussed wine and menu items, then talk turned back to men. “I told Joe he should join this group,” Tara said. “He hasn’t lived in Santa Barbara all that long and it would be good for him to meet people, too.” 12
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“Where’s he from?” Reagan asked. “San Francisco.” Tara’s eyes shuttered. “Hey, isn’t that where you’re from?” “Yes, it is.” Heavy silence descended around them and Reagan instantly realized that it was because neither she nor Tara wanted to talk about San Francisco. Which made her feel both relieved…and curious. But she didn’t want people prying into her ugly past so there was no way she was going to do that to someone else. She changed the subject back to the Young Professionals group and they talked about upcoming elections for the new board. “Would you think of running?” Reagan asked Tori. Tori tipped her head to one side thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. Maybe. What about you?” They debated which board position might interest them, none of them sure if they really had the time or the desire to do that at that point in their lives with demanding jobs and new relationships. “I don’t have a sexy boyfriend or fiancé at home,” Reagan said with a smile. “But I am pretty focused on my career right now, trying to build my portfolio and get experience.” Although, running for a board position could be another challenge, and accomplishment, to add to her list. Even if she ran and didn’t make it, she’d still consider that an accomplishment. Everything she tried made her stronger, gave her more faith in her abilities. Conversation then turned to their jobs, their bosses, and Reagan shared some of her frustrations with her male coworkers and how they seemed to always think she was going to clean up the kitchen, make the coffee, and pick out gifts for their significant others. As the only female architect in the firm, she was kind of on her own. Another challenge. “You don’t need to put up with that,” Tori said with a frown. “I know, and I try not to, but I hate to rock the boat.” She looked at the two other women, both so confident and strong, successful in their careers. They were the kind of woman she wanted to be. “I need this job, need to get some experience.” Tori tipped her head to one side. “How long have you been an architect?” Reagan’s stomach tightened a little. “I graduated nine years ago, but I only practiced for a couple of years until I got married. My husband…didn’t want me to work so I gave it up until I moved here.” Both women regarded her sympathetically across the table. She’d mentioned before to them that she’d moved here after her divorce. She smiled at them with determined cheerfulness. “So it’s kind of like starting all over again. With a big gap on your resume like that, sometimes it’s hard, so I’m really lucky to get on at Pacific.” “I think they’re lucky to have you,” Tara said with a firm nod. “I’ve seen some of the buildings you’ve designed and they’re amazing.”
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“Thank you. Though I really have only helped design projects, so far. And thanks for the vote of confidence in asking for me to possibly design your new building. It sounds exciting.” “Are you going ahead with that?” Tori asked Tara. “Yep.” Tara grinned. “I had to crunch a lot of numbers to convince Joe we should do it.” Then she grimaced. “Not to mention my grandpa. But I did it. We want to expand production and start selling more over the Internet, rather than just in the store, so we needed warehouse space anyway. We’re outgrowing our office space and I had this idea for the tasting room, so it just made sense to combine all three into one space.” “Will you move the store too?” “No. That’s a good location, on State Street. Lots of tourists. So we’ll keep the store there, but also sell some products at the ranch. Joe is making me be cautious.” Her sunny grin told Reagan that Tara didn’t mind Joe’s input. “We’re meeting with the contractor tomorrow, right Reagan?” “Right.” Reagan smiled at her new friends, a feeling of cautious warmth spreading through her. In her old life, her “friends” had never been people she’d chosen herself, had never been people she liked and had something in common with. It felt so good to have these friends she’d found herself. Friends who liked her. Friends she could be herself with. “I’m looking forward to it.”
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Chapter Two Gabe strode into his office, irritable and edgy from a lack of sleep for the last three nights. He stopped at his assistant’s desk outside his office. “Morning, Gabe,” Tracy said with a smile. “How are you?” “Crappy.” “Oh.” She blinked at him. “Um…want some coffee?” “Yeah. Please.” He took the mail she handed him and walked into his office. He tossed it on his desk, dropped the case with his laptop to the floor, and threw himself into the big black leather chair. He booted up his computer, then flipped through the mail with a disinterested glance. Tracy appeared with a cup of coffee. This week her hair was pale blonde and hot pink. Her hot pink eye shadow and lip gloss matched her hair. Luckily she was smart and efficient so he put up with her…creative expressions of her personality. “Thanks,” he said. Christ he needed caffeine. He’d barely slept an hour last night, twisting the sheets into knots with his tossing and turning, soaking them with his flashes of searing heat followed by chills. He’d wondered if maybe he had some kind of wicked flu virus. But no, he felt fine. Tired. And grouchy. Really grouchy. “Your first meeting is out of the office,” Tracy reminded him. “At nine-thirty.” She glanced pointedly at her watch. Hell, it was nine already. He was usually in the office closer to seven to get some things done before heading out to a job site. “Who’s this with?” he demanded, reaching for the mouse to check his calendar. “Pacific Design. An architectural firm.” He frowned and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “Why can’t they come here?” he asked. “I don’t have time for running all over the place.” Tracy’s smile tightened. “I don’t know, Gabe. You’re the one who set the meeting up.” “Must have been weeks ago. I don’t even remember what it’s about.” Tracy’s smile disappeared altogether and a small crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay?” He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll leave in a few minutes. Where’s their office?” “Canon Perdido Street. Just off State.”
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“Oh yeah.” He guzzled some of the coffee, hot and black, just how he liked it. “What happened with that problem at the medical complex yesterday? Did Gunther deal with it?” “Yes. It was a plumbing problem. He met with the subcontractor yesterday.” Gabe nodded, knowing he’d still check in with Gunther, one of his project managers, to make sure all was settled. Lately it seemed like they had nothing but problems. The biggest problem being the lack of business. He sighed. Supposedly the recession was over, but it was going to take a while to rebuild from it. Construction starts in the Santa Barbara and surrounding area had declined significantly. They’d been taking on smaller jobs, reno projects, tried to find ways to work lean, but things had been tough. He’d fought long and hard not to have to lay off staff―some of those guys had been with him since he’d started Pejovic Construction years ago―but the board was still making noise about cuts if things didn’t look better in the next month. He checked his calendar where he’d made some brief notes about the meeting he was about to attend. Pacific Design. Looking for a general contractor to build a new commercial office and warehouse space in the valley. Well, he couldn’t afford to turn down work, so he’d go to this meeting and see what was up. But the fact that an architect was involved was already a turn-off to him. And why did they need to meet? Why not just put out their tender for bids? He downed more of his coffee, grabbed his laptop again and headed out. The offices of Pejovic Construction were located in a modern new complex he’d built himself five years earlier, just off Upper State Street. Which meant he had to drive downtown to his meeting. He climbed into his beat-up Jeep in the bright morning sun, the air fresh and cool. The mountains were outlined crisply against the clear blue sky, another perfect Santa Barbara summer morning. You’d think it would be hard to be so bleak in the midst of paradise, and yet—he was. Dammit. Maybe he should see a doctor and get some drugs or something. He was still a little freaked out about what had happened the other night at the club. That had never happened in what…twenty years? But he had to put that out of his mind, way out, and focus on business. He parked in a small lot just off State Street and walked to the offices of Pacific Design, in a restored older building. He had to admit whoever’d renovated the adobe building had done a good job of retaining the old character and charm, with its arched windows, red clay tile roof and creamy stucco. He stepped into a cool tiled foyer, an interesting combination of modern with old-world Spanish charm. The receptionist greeted him with a smile that held warm feminine interest. “Gabe Pejovic,” he said. “I have an appointment with Reagan Somerville.” “I’ll let her know you’re here.” He didn’t sit, feeling restless and still on edge, so he wandered the small reception area and looked at the art on the walls by local artists. 16
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Reagan Somerville didn’t keep him waiting. “Mr. Pejovic.” He turned at hearing his name to see a woman standing there, having appeared around the corner of a divider that separated the office area from the entrance. She smiled at him and extended a hand. “I’m Reagan Somerville.” He moved toward her, shifting his laptop to his left hand so he could take the hand she held out. For a moment, just a flash of a moment, she made him think of Tori. Which was weird because she didn’t look anything like Tori. This woman was tall and slender, where Tori was petite. Reagan Somerville’s hair, although blonde like Tori’s, was darker, with shades of caramel and honey. This woman’s eyes were golden brown where Tori’s were blue. It must have been her confident professional manner that reminded him of Tori. She wore a cream-colored suit with a narrow skirt and ruffled neckline, no blouse beneath it, just a double string of pearls. Her hand was warm and fine-boned in his, her grip firm. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, all cool and businesslike, with no hint of that feminine interest the receptionist had displayed. “Please come in.” She led the way down a hall, their footsteps muted on the gray Berber carpet, past a series of offices and into a meeting room. A couple already sat at the table and Gabe had to blink when he saw Joe Scaletta and his fiancée Tara Lockhart sitting at the long table in the center of the room. Joe rose with a smile and extended his hand. “Gabe. Good to see you.” They both knew the etiquette of the club and weren’t about to mention that they’d just seen each other a few nights ago. Gabe shook his hand, turned to Tara with a smile. “Hi, Tara. How are you?” “I’m great, thanks.” Gabe turned to Reagan Somerville with a lifted eyebrow. She too smiled at him and indicated he should have a seat. She obviously knew he was already acquainted with this couple, but he’d bet big bucks she didn’t know how. She’d be shocked out of her prim little cream-colored suit if she knew. The thought amused him. But he was also curious about what was going on. “Are you the clients?” he asked Joe and Tara, setting his laptop on the table, unsure if he was going to need it or not. “Yes.” Tara spoke up. “We’re expanding our business, Santa Ynez Olives, and we need new office and warehouse space.” “Ah.” “They’ve approached me about being the architect on the project,” Reagan Somerville said, also taking a seat at the table, directly across from Gabe. She held his gaze. “When we were discussing possible contractors for the job, they were pretty adamant that they wanted to work with you.” “Are you taking bids on the job?” “No. I prefer to do a design-build collaboration.” He studied her across the table. “We usually do our own design-build work.” 17
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She held his gaze. The tiniest flicker in her eyes caught his interest. But the flicker was barely there. “You’re not interested in collaboration?” He narrowed his eyes fractionally. “Of course I am.” Impatience edged his voice. He leaned forward a little. “But I have a lot of experience in this business and my experience working with architects is that they’re too focused on the design and not enough on the practical aspects of construction.” He watched her face, the barely perceptible tightening of her features, another flicker in her eyes. She glanced at Joe and Tara and smiled at them. “We talked a little about the traditional approach, which is that I would design your project, we’d get bids from various contractors and go with the one we choose. But I think it’s better to separate those functions and allow you to have independent contracts with both me and with the general contractor. That way I act as your eyes on the contractor and monitor performance and contracts.” She looked at Gabe again and the smile she flashed him was sharp. “Perhaps that’s where you’ve had your experience working with architects.” He found himself momentarily without words, watching her take control of the meeting and skewer his objections. “Also in the traditional design-bid-build way, there’s increased risk for me as the architect,” she continued, her voice softly modulated and compelling. “The contractor can cut me out if all they needed an architect for was to get a permit. Also I’ve experienced contractors who’ve held the architect responsible for increased costs when it may not necessarily be so.” “You’re saying it’s a collaboration,” Gabe said, his voice also soft, his eyes fastened on her face. “But if you’re the client’s eyes on the work, then really, you’re the one in control.” She lifted her small chin. “It’s a collaboration,” she said firmly. “I realize we don’t know each other and you’ve never worked with me, but that’s my preference for how to work together. It’s better for the client in the long run.” An adrenaline rush heated his veins at this little battle. She was making him look like he didn’t give a shit about the client, taking control away from him, and nobody did that. He turned to Joe and Tara and saw them exchanging a look of concern, their foreheads both furrowed. Hell. He was blowing this. This wasn’t about a power struggle between him and this sexy, controlling architect. This should be about the clients. “You mentioned risks for you as the architect,” he said to Reagan. “But if you’re leading the project, then there are still risks. You have to be bonded. You’re responsible for means, methods, and jobsite safety.” “I’m aware of that,” she replied coolly. “That’s what we have insurance for.” She again turned to Tara and Joe. “Sorry, guys, don’t mean to leave you out of this discussion.” “That’s okay,” Tara murmured. 18
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“It could be seen as a conflict of interest for a designer to determine the budget,” Gabe persisted. Then he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. Why was he arguing about this with this woman? He was making himself sound like a dickhead. “I’m not a designer, I’m an architect,” she said, her voice smooth. “Although I do have the highest respect for interior designers and work closely with them on projects. As for your concern about a conflict of interest, in collaborative projects, instead of checks-and-balances there can be mutual incentives. My experience has been that there are less change orders and we stay within budget much better when we work together from the start.” He sat there, feeling hot and annoyed. Who the hell was this woman? Reagan looked back to Joe and Tara. “Sometimes when builders run into situations that aren’t explained in the drawings, they wait for the architect’s office to resolve the issue or they try to find solution themselves, even if their fix doesn’t mesh with the architect’s original design. In either case, the client is saddled with change orders, delays or a compromised design. And when things go wrong, as they often will, architects and general contractors often blame each other.” “It does sound like the best way,” Tara said. Joe frowned. “I guess so,” he said, clearly not as convinced. “We want your company to work on this, Gabe. But if this isn’t the way you’re used to working…” Fuck. He couldn’t afford to turn down a job. He had no idea how big this was, but he was aware of Santa Ynez Olives and the fact that they were growing rapidly. “It’s not,” he said with a smile. “But I’m flexible.” Okay, so nobody had ever actually described him that way. Whatever. “Tell me more about the project,” he said to whoever wanted to answer, but not looking at Reagan. They talked for a while about what Joe and Tara were looking for. He watched the young couple, the way they finished each other’s sentences, the way Tara had a clear vision for what she wanted, while Joe kept her on track with practical realities. Seeing them together like this, in a business setting as opposed to at the club, gave him a funny ache in his chest. They were good together. Whatever you wanted to call their relationship―it wasn’t about one being in charge or one being subordinate, it was about being equal partners, trusting each other. He gave his head a shake, momentarily distracted from the business conversation, which was very unlike him. He had no idea why he was so moved by seeing a happy couple together. He’d long ago given up on that idea for himself and still kicked himself over having let himself come to care so much for a play partner. Who’d fallen in love with someone else. “I get the impression Mr. Pejovic isn’t thrilled by this project.” The softly spoken words filtered through his distraction to his brain and his attention snapped back to the room. He jerked his head around to look at Reagan Somerville, who sat there calmly, a pen held loosely between her fingers, gazing quizzically at him. 19
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Reagan watched the man sitting across from her, trying to control her drumming heart beat and her jumping nerves. She hadn’t been prepared for this. Well, she’d been prepared for the meeting. She was always prepared for business. That was never a doubt. She just hadn’t been prepared for him. He sat there, well…smoldering. He gave off waves of intensity—waves of testosterone and dark brooding strength. His presence filled the room, even more so than Joe’s, who was a pretty spectacular hunk of masculinity. Between the two of them they definitely dominated the space, but Gabe even more so. When he ran hand over his short dark hair, or rubbed a hand over his darkly stubbled chin, it made her want to touch him too. When he spoke in that faintly accented, dark and delicious voice, it made her all fluttery inside. When his mesmerizing cobalt blue eyes fastened on her, it made her clench down low inside and want to drop her eyes. All this friction between them was generating a lot of heat, which was completely inappropriate and totally unwelcome. Good lord, what was wrong with her? She prided herself on anticipating people’s reactions and having a plan to deal with them, and yet she’d never anticipated that he would object to the design-build job she was proposing. And she’d never anticipated her reaction to him being so powerfully…sexual. She tried to keep her voice from rising, tried to be businesslike and objective, suddenly impatient with his arguments and reluctance. “Should we just put this out to tender? Or find another contractor?” He met her gaze and she didn’t back down, lifted her chin and held his gaze. “No,” Tara said. Shit. She’d been so provoked by Gabe Pejovic she’d forgotten about her clients and their best interests. “No,” Tara said again, glancing at Joe. Reagan could see the doubt on his face and sighed inwardly. “That’s not what we want to do. We want both of you to work on this project. We know both of you and we trust you.” Joe shot her an annoyed glance. “Tara…” “That’s not always good business,” Gabe pointed out, and Reagan found herself having to agree with him. And that was probably what Joe was worried about too. Joe’s gaze was steady and firm. “We know what we want. We aren’t stupid—we’re business people, too. We want to be involved in the process. Yes there are things we don’t know about—air-conditioning, heating and ventilating systems, electrical systems, plumbing systems, government permits…but we’re smart enough to know if you guys are ripping us off.” Reagan laughed. “Thanks for trusting us not to do that.”
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She caught Gabe’s startled glance at her. What? Because she’d laughed? Yeah, he seemed pretty stick-up-the-ass serious, but geez, there was room for a little humor in the business world. She wanted this job. Even though Joe and Tara said they wanted her, it wasn’t signed and sealed yet. They could go to anyone. And she was still relatively new here at Pacific Design, still trying to rebuild her portfolio—rebuild her life, really—and she needed this job. Her boss had been so impressed when she’d told him about it, and she wanted to deliver. She drew in a long slow breath and let it out, trying to release some of the tension that had accumulated in her muscles, tightening them. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Mr. Pejovic, are you or are you not interested in doing business?” Their eyes met across the table. She wasn’t backing down. She was serious. If he was going to be an asshole, she didn’t want to work with him. But fear clutched icy fingers around her insides at the thought that if Gabe didn’t want to play ball, Joe Scaletta and his beautiful fiancée might take their business elsewhere. She stiffened her spine. And then his gaze captured hers and held it, and she saw the look in his eyes— dark hints of agony and suffering hidden deep inside—and she felt herself softening, melting, pulled toward him. “I’m interested,” he said quietly. She quickly gathered up thoughts that had momentarily scattered, feeling suddenly very warm. She nodded briskly. “Good,” she said. “I don’t know if this is going to work,” Joe said slowly. He looked back and forth between them. “I sense you both have different ways of working.” He paused, and she could read his thoughts. He thought they were both too stubborn to get along. “How about we give you a couple of weeks to come up with the design concept and see how that goes?” She looked at Gabe and raised her eyebrows. “Does that work for you?” He gave a brief nod. “Yeah. That works for me.” “Good. We have a lot of work to do.” Their eyes met in a collision of heat and sparks and she stared at him momentarily. Then she gathered her wits and said, “You’ve heard about Tara and Joe’s requirements.” “A tasting room,” he said. “For olive oil.” He arched one thick eyebrow. Tara and Joe both grinned. “That’s right,” Tara said. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. They do it for wines, why not olive oil?” He smiled faintly and lifted one big shoulder. “Why not?” “That’s the main reason we want an architect involved,” Joe said. “This isn’t just office and warehouse space. We need a small retail space and a place for tasting, so it has to be aesthetically pleasing.” 21
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“Ambience,” Tara spoke up, her pretty amber eyes gleaming. “We want ambience. A Mediterranean feel. Like Tuscany or Provence, but also very clearly Californian.” Gabe’s smile deepened ever so slightly and Reagan watched his face soften. Damn, he was gorgeous. Her heart beat a little faster. “I see,” he said. “Well, of course ambience would be completely out of my comfort zone.” The corners of her eyes tightened as she continued to study him. He seemed to be making a joke at his own expense. Really? Huh. “So the location is somewhat fixed,” Reagan said. “They want to build on their ranch property of course, but we have a couple of options there.” They talked more about location, about conducting feasibility and environmental impact studies and preparing the cost analysis. Then Reagan glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I have another meeting to get to.” She looked up at Gabe and met his eyes. Heat flashed through her and she fought to keep her voice even. “I’ll call you to set up a series of meetings. What is your schedule like over the next few weeks? Will we be able to get started on this quickly?” He pushed his business card across the table to her, handed ones to Tara and Joe as well. “My schedule is pretty full,” he said. “We have a couple of large projects on the go right now. But if you call my assistant, Tracy, she’ll find time in my calendar for us to meet.” “I’ll do that.” Reagan escorted them all to the reception area, where they all shook hands again before Tara, Joe and Gabe left. When she shook Gabe’s hand, though, they stood there for what felt like a long moment, assessing each other. And although she tried not to, the intensity in his eyes made her drop her gaze. She released his hand and stepped back, forced a brightly professional smile and said, “I’m looking forward to working with you.” When all three had left, she returned to her office and sank into her chair. She pressed a hand to her forehead. Well. That had been an interesting meeting. She’d heard of Pejovic Construction—who hadn’t in the industry? They were a major player in the field. Gabe Pejovic had built his business into a large, hugely successful company that had an excellent reputation for quality work. But she hadn’t met Gabe Pejovic in the time she’d been living in Santa Barbara. She’d thought she would enjoy working with him, it would certainly be an achievement to add to her growing portfolio of projects. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She’d seen the look on his face when Tara had talked about her vision for her tasting room. Clearly he pictured a square box with a metal roof. Ambience. Yeah, right. And if he had some kind of bias against architects and preferred to work old-school ways where he was the one in charge, if he was going to argue with her over everything and try to control the entire project, this wasn’t going to be so easy.
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She swiveled her chair to face her computer and swallowed. Not only that, if she was going to go all…what? How did she feel? She tried to analyze the sensations he’d raised in her, the way he spoke, the way he looked at her, god, just the way he looked. She sensed something beneath the surface— the surface being quite attractive. More than attractive. He was a stunningly gorgeous man, a mature man with hints of silver in his short dark hair, attractive lines around his eyes and mouth and intense blue eyes. Big and muscular, a vigorous male animal, he was clearly strong and fit beneath the expensive dress shirt he’d worn so casually, sleeves rolled up on his tanned forearms. Beneath that imposing surface, though, was something more. Something…disturbing. Once again, she tried to analyze how he’d made her feel. Nervous. Maybe a little intimidated. Excited. Intrigued. She sensed more to his opposition to her way of doing business than just…well, opposition to her way of doing business. She sensed a man in pain. Maybe he wasn’t always like that. Maybe he’d had a late night. Maybe he drank too much and was hung over. Maybe his wife was a bitch and made his life miserable. This was going to be okay. It had to be okay. They’d work together on this project and it would all be good. Yeah right. She’d wanted the job, but what had she gotten herself into? Coffee would be good. She rose and walked down the hall to the small coffee room, but stopped on seeing the empty coffeepot. Damn. Why did it seem like every time she walked in there, the pot was empty? She threw out the used grounds, rinsed the filter and the pot and started scooping coffee from the container. When she’d gotten the coffeemaker started, she wrinkled her nose at the dishes in the sink, used coffee cups and spoons. She’d just done the dishes yesterday. There was no way she was doing them again, mostly because she hadn’t even used any. She had a mug she kept in her office and a couple of forks and spoons for when she ate at her desk, which was often, actually. But looking at the mess, it was hard for her not to clean up. She leaned against the counter, alone in the coffee room, and picked up a newspaper lying there. She was scanning the front page when Ross Hartman, one of the more senior architects, walked in. “Hi Sunshine,” he greeted her. She looked up at him and gave a polite smile. “Hi, Ross.” “What, no coffee ready?” “I’m just making some.” “Attagirl.” He folded his arms across his chest and he too leaned against the counter. “Is that a new outfit?” She glanced up from her newspaper to see him looking her up and down, his gaze lingering in the opening of the suit jacket. “No.”
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“It’s nice. Very sexy little suit.” “Er…thanks.” She tried for a cool tone. “What’s in the news?” She looked up again with a tight smile. “Not much. Do you want to read this?” “Sure. Thanks.” She grabbed her mug and poured a cup of the coffee that was now thankfully ready, and was about to walk out when Ross said, “Hell. There are no clean cups.” She paused. He looked at her expectantly. “Thought you would have cleaned up in here.” She frowned at him. “I did it yesterday.” “Sunshine…would you mind washing me up a cup?” He smiled in what he obviously thought was a persuasive way, and she ground her teeth again. “I would mind,” she said pleasantly. “Sorry, I’m really busy.” And she walked out. Damn. She worked in an office of mostly males. Okay, all males. Besides their administrative support she was the only woman architect at Pacific Design. And she hated it when they seemed to think she was there to look after them. Sometimes she just did it, so as not to make waves, or to jeopardize this job she needed so badly. And sometimes she didn’t mind. She thought it was fair that everyone took a turn at making the coffee or cleaning up the kitchen. But many times she had to grit her teeth and swallow her annoyance because it didn’t seem like the guys were doing their share. Back in her office she took a moment to sip the steaming cup of coffee and take a few deep breaths before reaching for the phone to call Gabe’s assistant and set up their meetings. “Reagan.” She turned to see her boss standing in her office door. “Hi Mike.” “How’d the meeting go?” His posture looked relaxed, leaning against the door jamb, hands in his pants pockets, but she sensed his alertness. Designing this new project was a big job and no doubt important to the company. “It went well,” she said with a confident smile. “It’s interesting―something different.” He nodded. “Good. So it’s a done deal?” “Well, no.” She hesitated, tried to maintain the air of confident competence. “They’ve given us two weeks―us and the contractor―to come up with a proposal and preliminary budget. I was just about to set up meetings with Gabe Pejovic so we can get started.” “Gabe Pejovic. How’d you find him?”
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There was a loaded question. “He’s pretty controlling,” she said, still smiling. “But I think I handled him.” “Good.” He studied her. “Let me know if you need any help. This is a big project for someone with your level of experience.” “I know. I absolutely will want your input on this.” She wasn’t going to pretend she knew it all, much as she knew it was important to project self-assurance. “But I think it’s going to be great.” “Good. I’ll want regular updates about how it’s going and don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it.” She nodded as he left the office, then picked up the phone to call Gabe’s assistant. Tracy seemed quite definite that the meetings should be at Gabe’s office. “Mr. Pejovic is very busy,” she said firmly. Reagan agreed to the first meeting at his office, then suggested the next one should be at hers. Tracy hesitated. “That’s only fair,” Reagan pointed out. “I know Mr. Pejovic is very busy, but actually so am I.” “All right,” Tracy reluctantly agreed, and they scheduled four meetings over the next two weeks, alternating locations. Reagan smiled with satisfaction as she hung up. He might be used to being in control of projects, but—so was she.
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Chapter Three As they left the offices of Pacific Design, Tara and Joe kept their lips tightly sealed until they were well away from the building and from Gabe Pejovic. “Are you sure about…” Joe began. “That man is…” Tara said. They both stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face each other. Tara’s lips twitched as she looked up at Joe and then he smiled too. “What?” she said. “Are you sure about Reagan?” Joe said. “She doesn’t have a lot of experience and her ideas sound pretty pie in the sky.” “Pie in the sky!” Her mouth fell open. “What are you talking about? She’s not the problem! Gabe’s the problem!” Joe grinned. “No he’s not.” She frowned. “Just because we know him from the club doesn’t mean he’s a great person.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against his solid warmth. She softened, but only a little. “Sure it does,” he teased, brushing his lips over her temple. “Seriously, Joe.” They stood there on the sidewalk in downtown Santa Barbara, her hands on his chest, his arms linked around her waist. “This is important. I don’t want everything screwed up because the architect and the contractor can’t get along.” “We could do without the architect,” Joe said. “I’ve seen Gabe’s work and he would easily be able to build what we want without.” “No.” She pursed her lips into a stubborn pout. “I’ve been doing research and we need an architect. Everything she said was right.” “There’s not a right or wrong way to do these things,” he said patiently and she melted a little more against him, recognizing the truth of his words. “Both ways are valid ways of doing business. It just depends on what we want. And I agree, I don’t want this screwed up. We’re taking a big risk here, spending this much money in this economy.” “The recession’s over.” He smiled. “So they say. Anyway, we’re on the same page here, honey. We gave them a couple of weeks to work things out, let’s see what happens. If they can’t get along, we’ll find out sooner rather than later.” She nodded, lips still pushed out a bit. She wanted Reagan to be involved in this. She liked her. Tara didn’t have many friends, having spent all her adult life trying to prove to her grandfather, and the rest of the world too, that she was capable of running
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the family business. After joining the Young Professionals group, she’d met women her age, with similar interests, like Tori and Reagan. She’d enjoyed spending time with them, talking about things they had in common. Tara liked talking business, but she was also learning to like talking about personal things too—things like men and love and relationships. Tara sensed something inside Reagan that made her feel protective of her, which was weird, because Reagan clearly didn’t need protecting. She was a grown woman at least six years older than her, a talented successful architect. Except Tara suspected Reagan had been bashed around a little in life from the way she was a little guarded, a little wary. “If it doesn’t work out, we find a new contractor,” she said, slipping out of Joe’s embrace to start walking again. “Hold on.” His big hand landed on her shoulder, halting her. She turned to look up at him. His mouth was firm, his eyes intent and compelling. “We make decisions together. Remember?” She blinked at him, his masterful words and commanding presence making her go all fluttery inside. She wanted to argue with him, but dammit, he was right. “Yes,” she said. “Yes master.” She added the last word with a touch of sarcasm. He grinned and kissed her mouth. “That’s my girl,” he said. She gave him a gentle whack on the shoulder but smiled, too.
***** After a crazy day visiting a few job sites, another client meeting and some bad news that had pissed him off, Gabe walked into his house that evening with a feeling of relief. And a feeling of amusement and pleasure at the greeting he got from Lucy. His fluffy white dog ran to him, spinning and jumping in circles, emitting excited little whines and whimpers. He grinned and bent to pick her up. “Hey, baby,” he said, holding her just far enough away that her tongue couldn’t swipe at his face. She wriggled in his arms with quivering excitement. He had to say, it was kind of nice to come home to such delight. Even his ex-wife had never been so happy to see him when he got home from work. Not even close. He set the little dog down and walked into his house, the one he’d designed himself a few years ago. Located in Montecito, hidden down a quiet little lane, it sat right on the beach, separated from the Pacific Ocean by a pile of huge boulders and some driftwood. He’d made it exactly what he’d wanted since he lived there alone. Well, and now with Lucy. He’d never intended to get a dog, especially a wimpy-assed fluffball dog like Lucy, but one day he’d found a lost cat and had taken it the animal shelter. While there, he’d looked around at some of the dogs and Lucy had pulled at something inside him with her little round face, bright dark eyes and pink tongue. She’d gazed back at him through the cage, turned and picked up a stuffed toy and carried it to the front of the 27
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cage again, as if offering it to him. His heart had squeezed. Then when the worker at the shelter told him her story, about how Lucy had alerted neighbors that her elderly owner had fallen by barking incessantly at a window, only to have her owner pass away and leave her all alone, he found himself walking out with a dog in his arms. She was a hero and she deserved a home. He knew nothing about dogs or any kind of pets, and he and Lucy were still getting to know each other. He made mistakes, like leaving the new black dress shoes he’d paid a fortune for laying out and discovering the leather chewed to a pulp. Like leaving a box of chocolates on a table and discovering that Lucy had a talent for jumping and climbing and had devoured the whole thing. That emergency trip to the vet had set him back a few dollars and he’d invested then in a book about how to look after dogs. He was still working on some new habits, like making sure his bedroom door was shut tight every time he left for work, but unfortunately Lucy still got into some trouble from time to time. Like now. As he walked into his kitchen he almost stepped in the mound of…ugh…what was that? Hell, the damn dog had puked. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Why, Lucy?” He grabbed for some paper towels. “Why did you toss your cookies, baby, hmmm?” Then he remembered the steak trimmings he’d thrown in the garbage the night before and turned. Sure enough, the trash can laid on its side, garbage strewn everywhere, including coffee grounds and used tissues, but no sign of raw meat. Which she had likely scarfed down. “Lucy.” He used his sternest voice and she went to the floor, tail down, nose on her paws, big dark eyes looking up at him. Hell. How could you be mad at that? He cleaned up the vomit, cursing beneath his breath. He wrinkled his nose so as not to breathe in the odor, because he was on the verge of heaving just from looking at it and the smell…Christ. He had a strong stomach for pretty much anything, but not vomit. He decided to change before he tackled the rest of his ravaged kitchen, and headed for the bedroom. He turned at the far end of the living room to see Lucy still lying there watching him. He sighed. “Come on.” Lucy trotted across the living room rug after him. Upstairs in his bedroom, she leaped on to the bed and tried furiously to dig a hole in the mattress. When unsuccessful, she proceeded to roll around on her back, snuffling and snorting and pushing the pillows off. Gabe watched her with a reluctant smile. “What the hell are you doing, you maniac mutt?” he muttered, shaking his head. He took off his pants and shirt and tie and changed in an old pair of athletic shorts and a worn T-shirt “Dinner,” he said to her. “Although I’m not sure if I should feed you or not. Don’t want you to puke again. On the other hand, you could be very hungry.” Sometimes the weight of responsibility weighed heavy on him. No wonder he had no family, if he was so clueless about looking after a damn dog.
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He cleaned the kitchen, mopped the ceramic tile floor until it was once again gleaming white, then opened the fridge to look for food. Instead, he pulled out a beer. He carried it through his living room and out the French doors in the middle of floor-toceiling windows, onto the wooden deck where he sank onto a thickly padded wicker chair. The rhythmic whoosh of the waves onto shore was muted from here, but still audible, the breeze carrying a faintly briny scent. He gazed out at the blue Pacific, the Channel Islands just visible in a haze on the horizon. He loved his view, whatever the time of day, whatever the weather. He loved living in this beautiful place and would never get over being grateful for what he had. And yet he felt…dejected. Lucy nuzzled her way onto his lap and he rubbed her soft fur. Then she did her funny little roll to expose her soft pink belly and pushed at his hand with one paw. He smiled at her and rubbed her tummy, admiring how she got exactly what she wanted without any words. Like the other night at the club, he was feeling weird. Out of sorts. He closed his eyes briefly as he remembered what had happened, the bizarre flashbacks he’d had that had freaked him out and had him nearly running out of the club like an innocent virgin. Joe had been right that night―he needed a break from that scene. If he couldn’t even control himself, he had no business trying to control someone else. And when he did control someone else there, it left him feeling unsatisfied. Empty. He was just feeling down because things had been so tough at work lately. That was it. Losing out on the bid to build the Sorenson mansion in Montecito to that asshole Kevin Wynne had been the icing on a shit cake. This was the second job they’d lost to Wynne and it was pissing him off. The guy was moving into their territory, and yet when Gabe talked about expanding the business down the coast to take advantage of more opportunities, the new owners of the company didn’t want to risk it. But somehow he had to expand the business because things had been so much slower lately. But on the upside, he had gotten a new project today. Well, possibly. If he and Reagan Somerville could find a way to work together. Damn. She irritated him. He couldn’t say why, she just did. The way she’d controlled that meeting from start to finish bugged the hell out of him and made him want to turn her over his lap and spank her. It also irritated him that he he’d thought about spanking her. In fact, he’d thought about her all day. He’d thought about what was beneath the tailored little suit that hugged slender curves, thought about that lush pretty mouth, thought about those golden brown eyes that matched her smooth golden skin and caramel-colored hair. He’d thought about how she looked all soft and sweet like melted candy on the outside, but acted all cool and businesslike. And he’d thought about the submissive flicker in her eyes. He took a swig of the beer, the bubbles burning pleasantly all the way down. He knew she’d already called Tracy and set up their next meeting, which was the day after tomorrow, no less. She wasted no time. Ordinarily he liked that. Patience had never
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been one of his biggest strengths, though he’d worked on it over the years. But once again, her efficient initiative annoyed him. Then he laughed out loud, a dry chuckle that had Lucy’s eyes opening from her blissful stupor to look up at him. “Sorry, Luce,” he murmured. “Just laughing at myself. I’m an idiot.” Why was he so provoked by Reagan? She was just an architect with whom he was going to work on a project, a project they needed badly if they weren’t going to have to lay off some of their crew, so the Board of Directors wouldn’t question his ability to run the company. Hell, since he’d sold and gone public, staying on as CEO, the financial pressures for him had been removed ― he had a nice investment portfolio from the sale of the business and a healthy income. But the pressure to perform, the responsibility of making money for everyone else, weighed heavy on him. Sometimes he wondered if that had been the right decision. Had he been happier when the business was his alone, when he was only accountable to himself for the mistakes he made? He rubbed his face. He’d asked himself that question a million times but the reality was, he’d made the decision and he had to live with it and make the best of it. “Come on, Luce,” he said, moving to stand. Lucy rolled off him and leaped to the floor, looking at him expectantly. “You know I’m going to the kitchen don’t you, you greedy little bitch? Yeah, let’s have some dinner. Then you can run on the beach and get all dirty.”
***** Two days later, Reagan and Gabe had their first meeting to work on the project. Reagan arrived at Gabe’s office exactly at one-thirty. She appreciated punctuality in others and hated wasting time, so she made it a point to always be on time. She walked into the office, a new building in the Mediterranean style of stucco and red clay tile roof Santa Barbara was known for. She’d loved exploring the city and its rich architectural history since moving there, with its elegant neighborhoods and distinctive downtown district, and enjoyed the challenge of conforming to the city’s architectural rules. A reception desk separated a small waiting area from a large open space with cubicles and some offices opening off it to the back. The size of the office and all the people working there surprised her, though she supposed it shouldn’t, knowing Pejovic Construction was a pretty significant player in the local construction business. She had done her research after all. The receptionist typing on a keyboard gave her a smile and greeted her and when Reagan identified herself and why she was there, she nodded immediately. “Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picked up the telephone and Reagan turned to study the framed photographs on the wall, which she assumed were completed projects. Many of them were very large commercial projects including a strip mall and a luxury hotel. She wasn’t sure 30
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how this meeting was going to go, given their first encounter the other day and Gabe’s seeming resistance to doing business the way she liked to. She wanted this to go smoothly, but had a feeling it wasn’t going to. A challenge. Another challenge for her to stand up to. She could do it. She could take control of this meeting, win him over with her knowledge and expertise, and they’d be happily working together on the project for the next nine to ten months. Sure. “Ms Somerville.” She turned at hearing her name. Gabe stood beside the reception desk. She smiled and moved toward him. He didn’t return the smile. She kept her own smile firmly in place as she followed him through a surprising maze of cubicles and offices to a staircase leading to the second floor. They climbed the tiled stairs, then walked down a hall to his office at the back of the building. He paused to introduce her to his assistant, a young woman with bright pink hair, a pierced nose and eyebrow, wearing black leggings, knee high black boots and a long loose tank top in black and pink stripes. “Hi Tracy,” Reagan said with another smile. “Nice to meet you in person.” She’d expected Tracy to be a dragon lady, older and crusty, after their telephone conversation, but she looked like a teenager, with her crazy hair and piercings. Tracy gave her a cool smile, apparently still not entirely happy that she hadn’t been able to look after her boss by booking all the meetings there at Gabe’s office. In his office, Gabe gestured to a round table in one corner of the spacious room. She took in her surroundings in one sweep of the room―modern furniture in brown leather and light maple wood including a U-shaped desk on one side, folders lined up in a neat stack, a pad of paper sitting in the middle of the bare expanse of desk, a cup holding pens standing in a neat bunch. Large windows overlooked a quiet side street and let a flood of sunshine in to illuminate a couple of potted palms and spill across the beige Berber carpet. More framed photographs hung on the taupe walls, but all were of buildings. No personal photos sat on his desk, no books or anything personal gave any clues about the man who worked there. She set her laptop on the table and took a seat, pulling the computer out and booting it up. “Traffic was awful on State Street,” she chatted as she did so. “There’s construction on Mission and it’s really slowing things up. Luckily I left early.” He took a seat opposite her without responding to her small talk and she ran her tongue across her teeth beneath her top lip as she focused on her computer. “I’m glad we could get together so quickly,” she continued with determined cheerfulness. “Your assistant was very accommodating. I appreciate that.” “I like to move quickly on things,” he said.
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“Good. Me too.” She looked up and smiled at him again, her insides tightening when he once again didn’t return the smile. “Something we’re on the same page about.” That was a good thing. She desperately needed something on which they were on the same page. “The first things we need to work on are environmental studies, preparing the cost analysis and land-use studies and specifying design requirements. We already have a site established, but as I mentioned the other day, there are options for where to build at the ranch. I thought you and I should visit the site together to have a look at it.” Her gave her a look, his chin down, eyebrows raised. “Brilliant idea.” She paused. Was that sarcasm? She kept her expression carefully neutral. “Er. Good, I’m glad you agree. When would be good for you to visit the site?” “Today.” She blinked. “Okay.” “Right after this meeting,” he added, leaning back in his chair. She bit her bottom lip briefly. “I have another meeting at three o’clock,” she said. “It’s about a half an hour drive to the ranch, so even if we left now, I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time.“ He looked at her, a patient, expectant look as if he was waiting for her to yield to him. Heat suffused her body and she slowly inhaled, then smiled again. “What about after my next meeting? I could meet you there at about four-thirty.” “I have another job site to visit later,” he said. She pressed her lips together. “Well then, perhaps another day would be better.” “Tomorrow’s really busy for me.” “We have another meeting scheduled Monday next week. We could use that time to visit the site.” “I don’t want to wait that long. We need to see the site to get started on things. They’ve only given us a couple of weeks.” He was right, dammit. “What do you think we should do, then?” she asked pleasantly. “Visit it separately?” “That would work.” Her nerves started humming with tension. “That doesn’t sound very collaborative.” He leaned back in his chair. “Look. You have your job to do and I have mine.” She breathed in short shallow breaths and laid her palms flat on the table in a slow, careful move. “We need to work together on this. A good collaboration requires us to talk. We may disagree or have different opinions on things, but it’s best to work through those in the design process rather than later. We both need to keep the clients’ best interests in mind and we both have to be prepared to compromise.” He leaned forward, his eyes a brilliant blue, framed with thick dark lashes. She felt herself pulled in, as if mesmerized. “A compromise would be visiting the site separately
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so as not to delay things by trying to find a time in both our busy schedules when we can both go.” “A compromise might be you rescheduling your site visit so we could go at fourthirty.” Their gazes held and his intensified. “A compromise might be you rescheduling your three o’clock meeting so we could go right after this and get it done.” They stared at each other, the air around them practically sizzling and snapping. Her pulse leaped into an erratic rhythm, her skin tingled everywhere and heat swept from her face down to her chest in a fiery wave. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, not wanting to give in to his confident aggression, but this was going to be something to put on her list of challenges because she felt like he was so much stronger, so much more powerful, and she had no idea why that made her feel all warm and liquid inside. A knock at the office door had them both turning their heads. Reagan’s heart thumped and she sucked air into her lungs. Before Gabe could speak or rise, the door opened and Tracy’s hot pink head appeared around it. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Gabe, Gunther’s here from the museum job site and he needs to speak to you about something urgent. He only has a few minutes.” Gabe’s mouth firmed and then he gave a sharp nod and rose from his chair. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Reagan, and he walked out of the office. She sank back into the chair and gripped the arm rests, her eyes closed. What was that? Her entire body hot and quivering, she focused on breathing and calming her racing heart. She heard his voice in the hallway along with that of another man, Gabe’s distinctive because of that faint accent. What was that accent? Curiosity tingled inside her. “No,” she heard him say, his voice getting louder. “We’re not doing that.” “But…” The other man spoke in a lower tone so she couldn’t make out his words. “That’s bullshit!” Gabe exploded. She heard a bang and jumped a little in her chair. Had he just hit the wall? Jeebus. She blinked. “We can’t afford that!” “I know but…” Again the other man’s words were indistinct. “Fuck.” Gabe’s curse was clearly audible. “No, you can’t handle this. We need to talk to Earl about this. We have a goddamn contract. They can’t do that.” More low-voiced conversation ensued, then Gabe bellowed for Tracy to set up a meeting with Earl and Gunther and him. Tracy’s light voice promised she’d get right on it. Gabe returned to the office, tossing the door shut behind him with a reverberating bang. She watched him stalk across the carpet and throw himself down into the chair, then run his hands through short dark hair. “Is everything okay?” she asked quietly.
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He blew out a sharp exhalation and looked at her. “Fine,” he snapped. “Now where were we?” “You were about to apologize for the interruption,” she said sweetly, then more sweat broke out beneath her silk blouse at the scorching look he sent her. He blinked, his long dark lashes sweeping down, then up. For a moment, a long, throbbing moment, he said nothing, staring at her. Her entire body glowed with heat. She gave a weak smile to tell him she’d been joking. His eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, pressing between his eyebrows as if he had a headache. Reagan didn’t know why, but she wanted to rub there for him, to make it go away. Oh dear god. What was she thinking? This man was an annoying jerk. “Do you always talk to your staff like that?” What the hell, she might as well dig herself in deeper. His gaze snapped up to her face again and she was struck by the weariness in his face. “Like what?” “Yelling for your assistant. Telling someone who works for you he’s not capable of dealing with the issue.” Then she stopped. What was she doing? There were challenges and then there was stupidity. “Forgive me. It’s not my business.” He gaped at her as if she’d just told him he was stupid and ugly and had a tiny penis. Then he shook his head. “True. It’s not.” She slowly inhaled. “We were discussing when we can both go out to the olive ranch to see the site location.” He tipped his head to one side. “How do you know Tara and Joe?” His blue eyes lit up with a bright flame. “Er…Tara and I are both members of the Young Professionals of Santa Barbara. She asked me if I was interested in this job and then I met with her and Joe to talk more about it.” His lashes again lowered and his mouth softened into an almost sullen line. “Of course.” She stared at him. “Getting back on topic,” she said. “I can’t reschedule my meeting this afternoon. I’m sorry. If I could, I would.” He sighed. “I can go out to the job site another time. And we may as well drive out there together. It doesn’t make sense to take two cars.” She nodded slowly. She should have been filled with satisfaction at the small victory. Another challenge she’d taken on and won. But she didn’t feel satisfaction, she felt like a bitch. That wasn’t good. She needed to review that BITCH acronym—Babe In Total Control of Herself. She was in control. And that was good. She lifted her chin and gave him a polite smile, resisting the impulse to apologize or backtrack and change her own schedule. “That will work fine.” 34
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They continued their business discussion, getting deep into planning and design features, building codes, zoning laws and fire regulations. But the entire time, Gabe’s input was terse, his answers to questions short, his demeanor stiff. Her annoyance level climbed, bit by bit, until finally she couldn’t hold it in any more. “What is your problem?” she demanded. Again she was on the receiving end of a long, measured look. Sparks snapped in the air around them and her skin tingled. “Excuse me?” “Is it because I’m a woman? I get the distinct feeling you don’t want to work with me.” “You’re a woman?” She stared at him for a couple of beats. When one corner of his mouth twitched, she realized he’d actually made a joke. She bent her head, smiling, then looked at him again. “If you hadn’t noticed, I guess I shouldn’t have pointed it out.” Their eyes met and held. “I’d noticed,” he finally said, his voice low and rough. “I definitely noticed.”
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Chapter Four Oh yeah, Gabe had noticed. He’d noticed the way her hair hung over her shoulder in thick shiny waves of melted caramel, the way her long eyelashes brushed against her soft cheeks when she lowered her eyes in a way that sent heat straight to his dick, the way her mouth moved when she talked and smiled. He’d noticed her slender bare legs beneath the hem of her skirt when she’d crossed them, her feet in a sexy pair of sling-backs with a modest but spiky heel. He’d noticed how her little suit jacket—today a gold-colored one with sleeves that ended just below her elbows—hugged her breasts and small waist. He’d noticed her slender fingers with short, unpolished nails and the graceful way they moved as they typed on her laptop computer. All that noticing had made him hard, made him distracted, made him surly. He didn’t want to notice all those things. He wanted to focus on business, dammit. And to his even greater annoyance, he’d been irritable and snappy with his staff, and then to top it all off, she’d called him on it. He wasn’t an asshole. At least, he never used to be. For some reason his life seemed to be surging out of control lately and he had no idea why. Strange emotions swirling inside him. Crazy memories running through his head, disturbing his sleep. A lack of interest in all the things that used to interest him. And now a ballsy businesswoman was making him all hot and flustered. Jesus. He gave his head a shake. “I’m sorry,” he said now. “That wasn’t appropriate.” She gave a short nod, eyeing him warily. Hell, he didn’t want to piss her off. He met her eyes straight on. “I don’t have a problem working with women,” he said evenly. “And I apologize if I’m coming across that way. Now. What time and where should I pick you up? At your office?” She licked her bottom lip and more heat rushed to his groin. He almost groaned aloud. “Actually I’ll be at a job site,” she said. “Maybe we could meet up back here. It’s on the way.” “What time?” She glanced at her watch, a narrow band of brown leather with a gold face. “It’s two-thirty. The site’s a hotel over on Alameda Padre Sierra. That’s only a few minutes away. I can get there and back in less than an hour.” “So back here by three-thirty?” “Yes.” 36
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He nodded. “Fine.” “I really can’t reschedule it,” she said. “I have to check on the progress of the project and I’m meeting the site foreman and some others there.” “I understand.” He did. He had meetings like that all the time. And it wasn’t that big a deal for him to reschedule his own job site visit. It wasn’t a formal meeting, he just wanted to drop by and check on how things were going. As CEO, he hardly needed to visit job sites, but he liked to stay close to the ground. He just hated to give in. He liked being in control. Always. Reagan gathered up her things and he walked her to the front door of the office building. “I’ll see you back here in about an hour,” she said and he nodded. Back in his office, he debated driving over to the site for a quick visit or staying at the office to get some things done before Reagan returned, and elected to remain in the office. He could visit the site first thing tomorrow morning on his way in. Then, with a sigh of annoyance, he left his office and found Tracy. “Hey,” he said. She looked up at him, her smile shiny with bubble-gum-pink lip gloss. “I’m sorry about yelling earlier.” She tipped her head to one side. “That’s okay, Gabe. But you really haven’t been yourself the last few days. Are you sure everything’s okay? Is there anything I can do?” “Everything’s fine.” He smiled reassuringly. He was the boss, the leader, the one in charge, and he had to project confidence and competence. He couldn’t look like a guy who was losing it, or everyone else around him would lose it too. “I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” “Oh.” Her eyes shadowed with a hint of concern. Damn. He didn’t need that. “Is it your mom?” “No.” Well, that wasn’t completely true. Worry about his mom was always there in the back of his mind. “Well, just let me know if there’s anything you need.” If those words had come from Reagan Somerville they would have inspired several dirty suggestions, but coming from Tracy, no such ideas came to mind. It was true what he’d told Reagan—he had no problem working with women, never had. It seemed to be just…her. He returned to his office and with a sigh put away the file for the Sorenson residence that he would no longer need, and pulled out another one he was working on. He needed to talk to Gunther, his senior project manager, about some things on this bid. Dammit, they had to get this job. His eyes narrowed. If Kevin Wynne was bidding on this one too, they had to come in low. The job was down the coast but Gabe was confident he could find subcontractors nearer to the site to work with. He tried to focus on that for the next hour while he waited for Reagan to return, but his thoughts kept drifting off course and back to her.
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She intrigued him. Confident, cool and in control, she nevertheless had hints of softness in her eyes and mouth. She’d dared to question him on how he ran his business, but then had flushed a heated pink, a very sexy heated pink, mind you, obviously in embarrassment at her own impertinence. She was a fascinating contradiction of gentle firmness, of reluctant assertiveness. And Christ, she made him hard. He closed his eyes briefly. How was he going to get through the next few hours, driving into the valley with her and back, spending time at the ranch scouting out locations for the new structure? Maybe he should delegate this whole project to Gunther. But no. Gunther had enough on his plate, and besides, this was important enough that Gabe, as usual, wanted to take charge of it. So he would do it like he’d done everything else in his life—with focused determination, cool aloofness and deliberate detachment. Well, not quite everything else in his life. He’d let his guard down with Tori, and look where that had got him. Fucking nowhere, that’s where, rejected and alone, and he damn well should have known better than to ever go there again. With his resolve and his walls firmly in place, he prepared to spend the next few hours with Reagan Somerville. She arrived back precisely on time, an hour pretty much to the damn minute, and he grabbed his camera and his laptop. “Do you want me to drive?” she asked. “No.” He would drive. That road through San Marcos Pass was insane and there was no way he was riding as a passenger with someone whose driving skill he had no knowledge of or confidence in. “My vehicle’s right over here.” He led her to his old Jeep. “I don’t mind driving.” He stopped dead. Turned and looked at her. “Do you have to argue with everything I say?” She blinked at him. “I’m not arguing. I merely said I don’t mind driving.” “You’re doing it again!” She stared at him, her pretty lips pressed together. Her caramel-colored eyes flashed sparks. “What do you want from me?” she asked coolly. “Do you want me to lie down and roll onto my back like a submissive dog?” Oh hell, she did not just say that. He stared at her, taking in the pulse fluttering beneath the thin tender skin of her throat, the flicker of her eyes. “You’d like me to just agree with everything you say, wouldn’t you?” she continued. “Just defer to you on every decision, no doubt. Let you control when our meetings are, where our meetings are and who should drive.”
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Uh, yeah. That was what he wanted. He wanted control. He was the Master Dom of Le Château and he set the scene. But this wasn’t a scene, and he’d walked away from all that until he got his head on straight. He sucked in a long breath, breaking eye contact with her for a brief pause. He was acting like an idiot, yet again. Gathering up all his self-control he looked back at her. He smiled reluctantly. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s pretty much what I want.” Several beats of tense silence passed. And then she smiled too. “Well, at least you’re honest.” He let out his breath. Honesty. It was one of his most important values. He knew the importance of honesty and he also knew honesty started with being honest to yourself. “I’m used to being in charge,” he said quietly. “I started this business myself, I built it myself. I run the show around here. It’s not that I can’t work with others. I can. I do all the time.” He paused. How honest was too honest? “There’s something about you that makes me cranky.” Her eyes widened. “Get in,” he said, in a gentle tone, holding the passenger door for her. She complied without a word and that, sadly, turned him on. When he’d backed his Jeep out of his parking spot and exited the parking lot onto State Street, Reagan said, “Why do I make you cranky?” He glanced sideways at her. She stared straight ahead out the windshield. “I don’t know,” he said. And it was true. To a certain extent. Inside he could admit that it was partly because he wanted to turn her over his lap, spank her pretty little ass until it was glowing pink and then bang her brains out. He wanted her on her back, just like she’d said, beneath him, around him, helpless and at his mercy. But although he believed in honesty, he knew better than to admit that aloud to her. “How long have you been an architect?” He felt her glance at him. After a short pause, she said, “I graduated nine years ago, but I only practiced for a couple of years. Then I got married. I moved here two years ago and started again.” Married? He hadn’t noticed a ring. He darted his eyes to her bare hands sitting in her lap. Nope, no ring. “You’re married?” “Not any more.” “Divorced?” “Yes.” More questions rose to his mind. “Where did you move from?” “San Francisco. That’s where I grew up.” “Why’d you leave?” He wanted to know it all. “What’s with the interrogation?”
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He smiled as he accelerated onto the freeway. “I’m just making conversation.” She sighed. “I left because I got divorced. I needed to get away and start over. So I came here.” He strangely felt relief that she wasn’t married. Which should not matter to him. “So you’ve really only had a few years of experience.” Another silent pause. “Yes,” she said. “But if you’re thinking I don’t know what I’m doing, I can assure you…” “That’s not what I’m thinking,” he interrupted. “If you want to see my portfolio, I can show you the projects I’ve worked on…” “I’d love to see your portfolio,” he said. “But as for proving your qualification, I’d prefer to make my own judgment.” “I see.” She stared straight ahead again. “That’s fair, I suppose.” “As I’m sure you’ll be making your own judgment of my abilities.” “True.” Her voice was cool again. “Have you ever been to Santa Ynez Olives?” “No. You?” “I drove out there a couple of weeks ago after Tara and Joe asked me about working on this project.” “You can give me directions, then.” “It’s not hard to find. It’s right off the highway.” After the short drive on the freeway, Gabe exited onto Highway 154 and they headed up into the mountains on the winding road. “The scenery is incredible here,” she commented, looking out the side window now. “I couldn’t really look at it much while I was driving because I was afraid of going over the edge.” Steep canyons dropped off below the edge of the road and mountains rose in the distance. “It is. I never get tired of the views around here. Everywhere you look it’s gorgeous.” “How long have you lived here?” She turned to him. “Almost twenty years.” “And where did you come from?” “Now it’s my turn to be interrogated?” “I’m just making conversation.” Smart mouth. His lips twitched. “I’m from Bosnia.” “Oh. Really.” He heard the surprise in her voice. “I wondered about your accent.” “I have an accent?” Her mouth curled into a smile. “It’s very faint.” He shrugged. “That’s fascinating,” she said. “I really know nothing about Bosnia.” 40
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He didn’t reply to that. Memories of his country had been tainted by his experiences leading to him fleeing to America and he preferred not to think about it or talk about it. “You must have been very young when you got here.” He shot another sidelong glance, not wanting to take his eyes off the road for long as he turned into a sharp curve around a mountain. “Are you asking how old I am?” She laughed, and the sound was like a warm caress. He wanted to hear more of it. “That wasn’t my intent.” “I was twenty-one,” he said. “You can do the math. I’m old.” She snorted. Her fingers clutched at the arm rest on the door as he took another curve. “You’re not old.” “I’ll just come right out and ask,” he said. “Even though it’s supposedly rude to ask a woman her age. Nobody ever said I was polite. How old are you?” “Thirty-six. And I don’t mind you asking. I never understood that fear of revealing your age. It is what it is.” Huh. Not that much younger than him. She had a youthful air about her despite her composure and apparent confidence. Smooth skin and a firm body had made him think she was about thirty. She must have been married for quite a while, then. Now it was his turn to do the math. Huh. Helluva lot longer than his marriage had lasted. Another memory he preferred to keep buried. “You’re right,” he said. “I turned forty two months ago. It doesn’t bother me.” She shifted in her seat and he felt her gaze slide over him. “Yes it does.” He jerked his head around to look at her, but had to look back at the road. A steep cliff dropped off to their right and a car behind him was right on his ass. He pulled into the slow lane to let it go by. “Why do you say that?” “Because you said you were old. You wouldn’t say that if it didn’t bother you.” “Bullshit.” The word sprang to his lips and he regretted it immediately. This was a business colleague and they weren’t at a construction site, and he needed to mind his manners. “That’s okay.” She patted his arm, her hand warm through the thin cotton of his shirt sleeve. “So you’re having a little midlife crisis. That’s okay. Lots of men do.” He bristled. “I am not having a midlife crisis.” Or was he? Was that what was wrong with him lately? It seemed ridiculous. “Is that what happened to your husband?” She turned her head away from him. “No.” Hell. That was uncalled for. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “What about you? Are you married?” “Not any more.” He caught her smile at the echo of her own words. “Divorced?” 41
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“Oh yeah.” “Well, there’s something we have in common. Besides our professions. And we both know Tara and Joe. There are probably lots of things we have in common.” “Does that matter?” She sighed. “I’m trying really hard here to get along. It doesn’t matter if we like each other. It doesn’t matter if we have anything in common. But we have to get along if we’re going to work on this project together. Tara and Joe gave us two weeks. I don’t know about you, but I want this job. Finding some common ground will help us communicate and work together.” He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Damn her again. Of course she was right. But the idea of finding out how much they had in common and getting along with her scared the crap out of him, because holy hell, he was so freakin’ attracted to her he was starting to have doubts about his ability to keep his hands off her. He so wanted to dominate her, and yet he’d stepped back from that world. Actually getting to know her and like her was seriously going to make that even more difficult, and that was not going to go down well. Fuck. She was trying. She was really trying. And she was going to put this on her list of challenges, because, jeebus, this guy was a challenge all right. She couldn’t get a read on him. He acted like a jerk then he apologized. He was alternately vulnerable then guarded. One moment he was grim, the next moment he made a joke—but it was hard to even tell that he made a joke. He threw her off balance, made her unsure how to react. And he was sexy as hell. She sighed. She’d been single for nearly three years and had met and dated many men. She was thirty-six years old, not exactly young, and she wasn’t looking for romance and happy ever after. There was no way she was ever going down that path again and losing herself in someone else’s life. She was making her own life now. But still, she enjoyed being with men and she liked sex, so she dated when she had the opportunity. But she’d met so many guys, some who seemed young and immature, some who just seemed blah. This guy was so far the opposite of blah, she couldn’t even name what he was. Fascinating. Powerful. Hot. She swallowed hard. He was a business colleague and seemed to have…er…issues. Whether that was a midlife crisis or some other problem didn’t really matter—apparently the bitchy wife wasn’t the problem, unless his ex still gave him grief. Reagan just needed to make him see things her way as far as this project went, find a way to establish common ground, like she’d learned in her assertiveness training, and get this done for Tara and Joe. Several moments had passed in silence with no response from him to her little sermon about getting along. They were on the downside of the mountain range, now, the road still hugging curves of mountains, but heading down into the valley. She leaned forward to observe a bird soaring above them in the clear blue sky. 42
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“Bald eagle,” Gabe said. “Beautiful.” “Yeah.” She licked her lips and subsided back into her seat. Looked out the window at a horse pasture ringed with a white fence. She sighed. “What?” She looked at Gabe. “Uh…” “What was the big sigh for?” Shit. She’d thought she’d kept that quiet. “Nothing.” “I seem to spend half my time with you apologizing,” he said. “But I too want this job. Just so you know. I don’t mean to be hard to get along with. I just am.” He lifted one big shoulder, not looking at her. Ah, hell. There was that damn vulnerability. “Why?” A pause. “Why what?” “Why are you hard to get along with? Earlier you said it’s me. That I make you cranky.” His jaw tightened and his hands shifted on the steering wheel. “You know what? Maybe I am having a midlife crisis. I should just go buy a Porsche convertible, huh?” “And find a twenty-two year old blonde trophy wife.” His burst of laughter warmed her inside and tugged out an answering smile. “Yeah. That’s what I need.” And the atmosphere inside the vehicle lightened considerably. Thinking this might be a good time to talk business, Reagan launched into a continuation of their earlier discussion. And as Gabe talked to her, his knowledge and creativity blew her away. Wow. “Turn right up ahead,” she said a short time later, spotting the red, green and gold sign for Santa Ynez Olives. “Right there.” They turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road and drove the short distance through groves of olives. “These olive trees are apparently hundreds of years old,” she remarked, remembering what Tara had told her. “Isn’t that amazing?” “Yeah. They’re incredible.” At least he seemed to appreciate the ancient beauty and grace of the twisted trunks and branches, the small silvery green leaves shimmering in the late afternoon sunshine. They approached the building that housed the ranch offices and the processing component of the olive company and he pulled into the small parking lot. A few vehicles were parked there. “Should I park here?” he asked, looking at her. “Or will we drive around?”
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“We can walk from here and check out different locations. See what you think.” They emerged from the car into warm sultry air, the temperature several degrees higher than what it had been in Santa Barbara, and started across the crushed stone parking lot. A large nondescript building sat on one side. “That’s where they process the olives and the oil,” Reagan told him. “And there are offices as well, for the ranch manager and mill manager. Their head office is in Santa Barbara, above the retail store, but they need more space.” “And warehouse space, apparently,” Gabe said. “Yes. Since they’re planning to expand their sales over the internet, they need additional warehouse space. They have some small space at their retail store in town but it’s not nearly enough. My thought is that the warehouse space could be incorporated into the existing building, and the offices could all move to the new space. Which would also be the tasting room they want to open.” “Still having doubts about olive oil tasting,” he said. “Do people really want to drink oil?” She laughed. “I don’t think you drink it exactly. I’ve never done it myself. But Tara says it’s done.” “I guess she knows what she’s talking about.” “She’s very knowledgeable about the olive industry. She spent some time in Europe too, learning about the business.” “Mmm.” She stopped and held out a hand. “The tasting room should be the first thing people see when they come down that road, I think. So I thought this might be the best location ― in front of the existing building.” He stopped, looked back down the road on which they’d driven into the ranch, and looked all around him. He walked a little further and she watched him. He was big. Forceful. A strong presence. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his light blue dress shirt sleeves rolled up on his forearms. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight as he looked around. Then he pulled out his camera and started taking pictures. “What’s that house over there?” He gestured to the home mostly hidden behind olive and oak trees. “That’s where Joe and Tara live. Since they live out here now, offices out here will be much more convenient for them.” He nodded. “They won’t want to lose any trees,” he remarked, looking at her. He waved a hand. “This row would have to be moved. Or part of it. I’m sure they’d prefer to keep some privacy for the house.” She nodded. “That’s true.” They debated pros and cons of various layouts as they walked around and it was Gabe who suggested a way of laying out the building so that the trees would not be
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impacted. “That would really make the best use of the space,” she agreed. “I’ll need to get measurements. Is there a particular survey company you prefer to use?” He looked at her, those cobalt blue eyes framed with dark lashes. “You’re actually giving me a choice?” She lowered her chin and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “And here I thought we were getting along so well.” “Only because I’ve agreed with everything you’ve said.” She opened to her mouth to argue and then saw the gleam in his blue eyes. Was he teasing? “I was the one being agreeable,” she said softly. They were standing very close together, close enough that she could reach out and touch him and see if those muscles were as hard as they looked, and she wasn’t sure how they’d gotten so close. Her heart fluttered a little in her chest as their eyes met. “Only because I had the best ideas,” he replied. “Arrogant.” “Confident.” She pursed her lips. The breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby olive trees, tugged a tendril of hair across her face, and Gabe reached up to brush it back off her face. His fingertips grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Arrogant,” she repeated. His gaze moved over her face and when he looked at her mouth, heat washed down through her body. Her lips parted slightly, involuntarily, and she drew in a shaky breath.
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Chapter Five He was going to kiss her. Jeebus. After all the sexism she experienced in her workplace, this guy, a colleague even though they didn’t work for the same company, was looking at her like he was going to kiss her, right out in public. Although there was nobody around. But someone could come out of the building. Maybe even Tara or Joe. But whatever. He was looking at her like he was going to kiss her and she found herself…wanting that. She should step away and break that eye contact, act like nothing was happening between them. But she didn’t. She just stood there, trapped like a wild animal in headlights, staring back at him, frozen in place. The molten heat in his eyes had warmth cascading over her skin as silence stretched out between them, and a sensation like bird wings fluttering rose low inside her. “Yeah. Arrogant,” he murmured and she watched his lips barely moving on the word. His beautiful sexy lips. Gah! What was she thinking? What was wrong with her? This was crazy! She didn’t even like this guy—he was dark and moody, bordering on rude. But she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth and a deep hunger rose inside her, making her breasts ache and her pussy clench. Her breath came in short, shallow puffs. She wanted to taste his mouth, wanted to feel his body pressed against hers. She blinked and tried to refocus, sexual attraction like she’d never before experienced tugging at her. “So you admit it then,” she whispered. “I’m an asshole,” he agreed, taking one small step, bringing himself even closer to her. His strong square jaw was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. Long black eyelashes lowered over those intense blue eyes. “But I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I’m not always like this.” “It’s that midlife crisis,” she said, voice still shaky, her eyes still fastened on his face. He huffed out a little laugh, the corners of his mouth tipping up in such an alluring way, her head tipped a little to the side as if her neck had gone soft. Her whole body had gone soft. “Right. I wonder what I could do about that.” She licked her lips. “I thought we figured that out already. A shiny new car and a shiny new trophy wife.” One corner of his mouth lifted even higher. “I had that once. It didn’t work out so well.” “You had a trophy wife? Or a new car?” Her eyebrows pulled down. He chuckled. “Well, both. The car worked out fine. The wife—not so much.”
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“I was a trophy wife.” Oh god. Why had she said that? He did not want to hear about her pathetic marriage. “Really?” His smile faded and he reached out again to touch her cheek. “I can’t picture that. You’re so…” “What?” She gazed up at him. “I don’t know the word. You’re just so…you. I can’t see you putting up with being some guy’s arm candy.” She choked on a little laugh. “I’m not exactly arm candy. That’s not what I meant. Oh never mind what I meant, that was a lifetime ago. How on earth did we get onto a discussion about my marriage?” She moved away from him, breaking the spell that had threatened her self-control although her body still ached and tingled. “I believe we were talking business and then you insulted me by calling me arrogant.” “Ah yes. And you subsequently agreed with that assessment.” Letting her tongue come out to touch her top lip, she shot him a glance. His eyes immediately went dark. “Hey. You are being agreeable.” He grinned. And her knees went weak. Literally. She thought she might drop to her knees there on the grass. Was this the first time she’d seen him smile, really smile, no holds barred, light up his eyes, light up the whole frickin’ world smile? Her entire body hot and tight, she swayed there for a moment, taking in his straight white teeth, the sexy way his face creased, the crinkles at the corners of sparkling cobalt eyes, the indefinable appeal of that smile. She lifted a hand to her chest. Holy. Freakin’. Crap. “See. I told you,” he said. He rubbed his jaw. As if smiling hurt his face, as if he didn’t smile very often. And Reagan thought at that moment she might do anything to see him smile like that again. Whatever it took. She drew in a long shaky breath. Whoa. They had to get back to business. “All right,” she said, making her tone firm and businesslike though she suspected her voice came out a little wobbly. “We’ve made some decisions.” “We didn’t decide on the survey company.” She named off a couple of names she’d worked with and he nodded. “Yep. Either of those works for me.” “Fine. I’ll make arrangements for them to get out here asap. We can talk more Monday at our next meeting. Shall we head back to town?” He nodded, the smile gone, his usual solemn brooding look back in place. “Let’s go.”
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Gabe was happy that the winding highway back to Santa Barbara took all his focus, because the woman in the seat beside him was distracting as hell, and he needed to get his mind off her, seriously off her. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who sparked him up like she did. In fact, as he pondered it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who affected him like she did. He’d thought he’d had something special with Tori, but the truth was, they’d only ever been together at the club, and though he’d gotten to know her well on a certain level, they’d never had a conversation like the one he’d just had with Reagan, a little verbal sparring, a little friendly insulting, a lot of sexual tension. Sexual tension that could not be resolved by cuffing her hands and paddling her butt. Hmm. He couldn’t let his thoughts go there. For so very many reasons. He’d made a decision after that night at the club that he was taking a break from that scene, and despite the subtle cues he read in Reagan’s tone and body language, he wasn’t going to get involved in that kind of relationship. Or any kind of relationship. On top of that he was pretty sure Reagan was vanilla to her core, with her butterscotch hair and caramel eyes, with her sweet air of gentleness. And now was not the time to be thinking about this crap, not at sixty-five miles an hour on a winding mountain road. Later. When he was back in the refuge of his home, safe and quiet and alone. Well, alone other than Lucy. But Lucy understood his moods and would let him think. “I need to meet with Joe and Tara again,” Reagan was saying. “I want to get a better sense of what their vision is for the tasting room. To be able to translate their vision into the physical structure. Do you want to be at that meeting?” “Of course I do.” “Okay, great. So you and I meet again on Monday. I’ve got some sense of their needs as far as warehouse and office space goes, so I’m going to try to do enough design work to have some tangible documentation to base that part of the budget on. I’ll compare it with past similar projects.” “You’ve done olive oil tasting rooms?” He felt her sideways glance. He knew she wasn’t sure how to take his remark, serious or teasing, and that was fine, because he wanted her as off balance as he felt. “No,” she said. “But I did work on a winery project, and I think Tara envisions this to be somewhat similar. I’m sure we’ve both visited lots of wineries and tasting rooms. There’s a wide range of styles—from rustic farmhouse to sophisticated urban tasting room. Some of them play off the history of the area, like one I went to that was designed as a hitching post, others are housed in Victorian homes. I think what Tara has in mind is something European. She’d mentioned Tuscany and Provence. But Californian.” “Huh.” “What? You can’t imagine that?” She thought he was nothing but a guy who sat in an office and increased shareholder value, or maybe pounded a hammer. He was a little annoyed by it, getting
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a little tired of it. “I can imagine it,” he said brusquely. “But is that going to give you enough to do a budget on?” “Like I said, I’ll compare to similar projects. I’ve worked on the winery project, I’ve worked on a number of office and warehouse spaces. I look at the component parts and see what’s similar. That gives me a pretty solid starting budget, based on recent realworld experience. As the design develops, we’ll do budget updates, always in comparison with this initial budget.” “I know how to budget.” He felt her sidelong glance again. “Of course you do. But you asked.” He gave a shrug. “Just checking.” So far he hadn’t caught her on anything she seemed not to know. She was smart, knowledgeable and apparently creative. That both pissed him off and made him admire her. He was so fucking confused. “Whatever I come up with, I’ll share with you at our next meeting,” she continued. “Great.” As they arrived back in Santa Barbara, he headed back to his office where her car was. “There’s so much to think about,” she chatted on. “It’s an exciting project, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” It was well after five when he pulled into the empty parking lot. Only a few cars remained, a couple of the VPs still working but most of the office staff had headed home for the weekend. And although he usually stayed at the office late too, he found himself resistant to the idea of going back in the office, of sitting in his office all alone. He didn’t even want to go home, even knowing Lucy was waiting there for him, patiently waiting to get outside and do her business, waiting for her evening run on the beach, barking at waves, chasing sticks. Sure she was a little ball of white fluff, but he didn’t treat her like that, and she didn’t act like a prissy princess pup. He found himself wanting to keep Reagan with him. “There is a lot to talk about,” he said, turning off the ignition. “How about we continue this conversation over dinner?” She looked back at him, her face a perfect luminous oval in the late afternoon light, her lips glossy, her eyes sparkling. “Dinner?” “Sure.” “We’re meeting again next week.” “I know. But I’m hungry. You probably are too. We have business to discuss. Why not?” “A business dinner?”
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The hint of wariness in her eyes told him he had made a misstep. Taken a wrong turn. Fucked up. He smiled. “Never mind. I’m sure you’re busy.” “Yes,” she said. “I am, actually. I have a date.” She gave a forced smile as she gathered her purse and briefcase. “Thank you for driving out there. I think it was worthwhile. So, I’ll see you Monday.” He watched her climb into her little Honda as he walked toward the office in the late afternoon sunshine. He passed the big pot with a feathery palm and red and white impatiens spilling out of it and entered the office building. Cool and quiet. Danielle, the receptionist, had left for the weekend and Gabe passed by empty cubicles and offices on the way to his own. She had a date. Of course she had a date. Why wouldn’t she? Smart, gorgeous, sexy…she probably had guys lining up to date her. Why had he been so stupid as to ask her out for dinner? Not a date. A business dinner. But it was Friday night. Who went out for business dinners on Friday night? Only pathetic workaholic losers like him. What an idiot. He checked voice mails, emails, looked at a few notes that Tracy had left for him, thought about reviewing some spreadsheets in preparation for the Monday morning board meeting. Nah, he could look at those at home. He saved them onto a USB drive, tucked that into his briefcase and headed out for the weekend. An empty weekend stretched ahead of him. Nearly empty. He’d go visit his mom like he did every Sunday, but that didn’t take very long these days, since she didn’t even know he was there. The rest of the weekend he could fill with work. But for some reason that thought just depressed him. Maybe he was going to have to go to the doctor and get some kind of midlife anti-depressant drugs. Or buy a Porsche. His lips lifted in a small smile. Hey, maybe stopping by some dealerships on the way home wasn’t a bad idea. Okay, a new car wasn’t necessary. He hit the freeway and headed for Montecito, but as he exited past a little neighborhood bar on the corner he slowed. That was the bar they’d all headed to for beers after knocking off for the day when he’d worked with the construction crew. He decided to poke his head in and see who was there. Inside the dim interior, with its rough wooden floor and walls, supposedly a former stagecoach stop, he let his eyes adjust to the lighting and looked around. He spotted a group of men around a big table in the back and squinted. Yeah. There was Tomas, Dean and…yeah, Jeraldo. Guys he’d worked with, still busting their asses on the job site every day. They loved their work and they were good at it. There were a couple of other guys there too, who he didn’t know as well. As he neared the table, Tomas spotted him. “Hey, look who’s here,” he called out. “The big boss man.” Gabe grinned and slapped Tomas upraised hand, clasping it. “And don’t you forget it,” he said. “Hey guys.” 50
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“Have a seat, man,” Dean said, pulling up another chair. “You joining us for beers?” “Just like old times,” Jeraldo said, smiling. “How’s it going, Gabe?” They welcomed him like they always had. These guys had worked with him at the construction company where he’d started working when he’d arrived in Santa Barbara. They were friends, and when he’d made the big decision to start his own company, he’d immediately hired them. They’d worked for him ever since. They were talking shop, of course, gossiping a little about their coworkers, hashing over some construction problems, then moved on to complaining good-naturedly about their wives. Gabe joined in the conversation easily, glad he could still fit in with them even though he didn’t very often any more. “She spent sixty dollars on a bra!” Jeraldo said. “On one bra!” “Is it diamond studded?” Tomas asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. Jeraldo snorted. “Not hardly.” Then he grinned. “It is nice, though.” The guys all made interested noises. Gabe hung around for an hour or so, and then everybody started getting up to leave, to get home to those wives and their families. They slapped his shoulder, wished him a good weekend, and he walked back to his Jeep in the now twilight. Street lights filtered through the cypress trees lining the parking lot. Now he had to head home. Lucy greeted him with her usually ecstatic joy but when he found a chewed up box of Kleenex on the living room floor, she once more laid herself flat on the floor, chin on her paws. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” he said wearily, surveying the bits of tissue everywhere. “What have you done? How much of that did you eat, baby?” How sick was she going to be? She didn’t act sick though. He watched her when she went outside to do her business and she seemed fine. When he let her back in, she trotted after him into the bedroom where she did her usual snort and roll on the bed while he changed. “How about we go out and get something to eat?” he asked her. “Fish and chips on the wharf. Sound good?” She gazed at him, smiling happily, her little pink tongue hanging out. “Okay, good.” He pulled on old faded jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, shoved his wallet in his pocket and headed for Lucy’s leash hanging at the back door. Lucy wasn’t crazy about riding in the car. He suspected the only place her former owner had taken her in the car was the vet. Or the groomer. Not really happy dog experiences. He liked to take her with him when he went out doing errands or whatever, but she was definitely not a good traveler, wanting to climb on his lap and put her paws on the steering wheel, whining and panting the whole time. Which she did again tonight. When they got to the wharf, he parked, then clipped her leash to her collar and wandered down to the end and back to give her a chance to
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burn off some energy. The wharf was busy, Friday night, people out having drinks and dinner at the restaurants there, tourists in town shopping at the little gift shops. He inhaled the faintly fishy sea air, let the cool ocean breeze cool his face. They’d turned and were on their way back toward the little fish place and he was tugging Lucy away from a seagull that had landed nearby when he lifted his head and came face to face with Reagan. He stopped dead. “Hi.” Then he looked at who she was with. Kevin Wynne. His smile disappeared and a stone materialized in his gut. “Wynne.” “Gabe. Hey, how are you?” Gabe looked between Reagan, standing so close next to him, dressed in a little strappy blue and white flowered dress, a white cardigan over her shoulders, and Wynne, all spruced up with his styled hair, black dress pants and a loose white shirt. “I’m good,” Gabe said, forcing a smile, that rock in his gut hurting a little. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” “Oh, you know Reagan?” Wynne looked down at her and smiled. “Yes,” she murmured. “We know each other.” She gave Gabe a faint smile. “Cool,” Wynne said. “How’s business, Gabe?” “Excellent.” “Good, glad to hear it. You bidding on the Bridgeport job?” Gabe studied the younger man. “Haven’t decided for sure. You?” Kevin smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.” Gabe nodded. “Well, nice running into you. We have a dinner reservation so we’d better get going.” Lucy yanked at her leash, trying to attack another seagull, and Reagan’s gaze dropped to the dog. “Is that your dog?” “Yeah. Lucy. Lucy! C’mon, no seagulls for dinner.” Lucy smiled up at him. “She’s so sweet,” Reagan said. She tipped her head to one side and met his eyes. “Not the kind of dog I would have expected you to have.” “Really. What would you expect?” “I don’t know. Something…bad-tempered. A Rottweiler, maybe.” “Ha ha.” He smiled. “Cute. I’m not that predictable. Well. Enjoy your dinner.” “Thanks. See you Monday.” Kevin lifted a hand as they moved away and Gabe and Lucy continued down the rough wooden planks of the wharf, weaving among the people walking, stepping out of the way of cars slowly looking for parking spots.
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She was fucking dating Kevin Wynne. Jesus. That sucked rocks. Was she going to tell him about the olive company job? What was going on with that? How could she be dating him and not have considered him for the job? But it had seemed as though Joe and Tara had wanted him involved. Well, probably Joe more than Tara, he barely knew Tara. And it was Tara who’d involved Reagan. Confused thoughts tangled in his head. He and Reagan had less than two weeks to get things together. Was Wynne standing in the wings ready to jump in if things didn’t work out? Sonofabitch. Gabe didn’t have much appetite but he ordered the fish and chips anyway, although he got the food to go and took it home to eat, not wanting to sit there on the wharf all alone masturdating while Reagan was wined and dined by Kevin fucking Wynne.
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Chapter Six Saturday afternoon, Reagan sat in the tiny kitchen of Jelana’s small cottage-style house off upper State Street, drinking coffee. “How’s the new job going?” she asked Jelana, who sat with one leg curled under her, a mug of coffee in both hands. “It’s going great,” Jelana said. She looked so pretty today in a new mauve T-shirt that flattered her dark coloring, her cheeks pink with blush and her lips shiny with rosy gloss. Her dark eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “Thanks for all the help with the interviews.” “Hey, no problem. It’s good to practice, especially when you haven’t done one for a while. Things are different now with behavior-based interviews.” As she well knew from her own experience. She hadn’t faced the same barriers Jelana did, other than her lack of experience, but that had made it difficult enough to find work in her field. After many interviews all up and down the central coast, when Pacific Design had offered her a junior position she’d jumped at that, and made the decision to relocate to Santa Barbara. “The practice interviews really helped,” Jelana agreed. “And knowing what to wear.” It had been easy for Reagan to loan Jelana interview clothes, since they had a similar build, and if there was anything Reagan had a lot of, it was clothes. She hadn’t even brought all her clothes when she’d moved to Santa Barbara. She studied Jelana across the small round table. They were the same age, but Jelana had a sixteen year old son. That kind of freaked Reagan out when she thought about it. She wouldn’t have wanted to have children when she was twenty, but now she felt a faint ache inside at the thought that she’d probably never have children of her own. “How’s Austin?” she asked Jelana. Jelana grinned. “He has a girlfriend.” “Oh yeah?” They talked about Jelana’s son for a while, how he was doing at school and his parttime job at a local pizza restaurant. Reagan didn’t envy Jelana for what she’d been through, but she did envy the sheen of pride and love in Jelana’s eyes when she talked about her son. The son she’d nearly lost because of her addiction. “And speaking of girlfriends,” Jelana said, her eyes dropping, a small smile playing on her mouth. “I’ve been seeing someone too.” “Really?” Reagan grinned and leaned forward. “Who is it? Tell me all about him!”
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“His name is Santos. He’s actually from El Salvador. He’s been living here a few years now, though.” Jelana lifted her eyes and met Reagan’s. “I really like him.” “Oh, that’s so great!” “He came here because of the political unrest in his country. He went through some awful things, so he…understands.” “Oh. I’d like to meet him.” “Really? Because…he’s coming over in a little while. I thought you might still be here and I wanted to introduce you.” “Cool!” “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month now,” Jelana continued, still smiling. “I didn’t say anything at first because I wasn’t sure how it would go. But we’ve kind of agreed that we won’t be seeing anyone else. Yesterday at work I called him my boyfriend when I was talking about the weekend. It sounded…nice. Funny but nice.” “Yeah, a boyfriend at our age does sound kind of funny, doesn’t it?” “Hey, how was your date last night?” “It was okay.” The truth was, Reagan had been a little distracted after running into Gabe on the wharf. Okay, a lot distracted. Remembering the sparks of sexual tension that had snapped around them all afternoon, the way she’d wanted Gabe to act on the heat building between them, only emphasized the lack of excitement she felt with Kevin. He was a nice man, kind and gentle and pleasant, but she felt none of the sizzle and burn that she’d felt with Gabe. And that made her feel a little guilty, like she was leading Kevin on, sitting there having dinner with him when she couldn’t stop thinking about another man. His strength. His power. His complexity. And thinking about him just made her ache down low inside with wanting him.”Are you going out again?” For a moment Jelana’s question confused her. Oh yeah, she was talking about Kevin. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her cup. “We didn’t plan anything. He’s a nice guy.” She looked up at Jelana. “You know I’m not looking for anything serious. But it’s nice to go out sometimes and have fun.” “I don’t see why you can’t have a relationship with someone.” “You know what happened in my marriage. I just don’t want to go there again.” “It doesn’t have to be like that.” “No. I know.” She knew that, but it didn’t change how she felt―no man was ever going to control her life again. She was working hard to make herself into a strong independent woman. Dating was fun, having friends was fun, but falling in love and making herself that vulnerable again was never going to happen. Jelana’s doorbell rang, and she sat up straight and lowered her feet to the floor. “Oh! That’s Santos.” Reagan smiled at her pleasure. Now she realized why Jelana was wearing a pretty new T-shirt and shiny lip gloss.
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Jelana disappeared to answer the door and came back a moment later, leading a tall, broad man by the arm. It was hard to judge his age, with his tanned skin and shiny dark hair with no hints of gray. But his eyes held a lifetime of experience and pain. She smiled and shook hands with him as Jelana introduced them, and he took another seat at the table. Jelana poured him a cup of coffee, added milk to it and handed it to him. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said in accented English. “I have heard so much about you from Jelana.” “It’s nice to meet you too,” Reagan said, warmth spreading inside her. “Jelana tells me you’ve only lived in Santa Barbara a few years.” “I actually live in Carpenteria,” he said. “But yes, about three years in America.” “What do you do for a living, Santos?” “I work in construction,” he said. “I did engineering work in El Salvador but was not able to find work in that field. When I came here I spoke very little English.” “Your English is very good.” “Thank you.” He flashed white teeth. “I have been taking English classes. My boss pays for them. He hired me knowing my background and is helping me. I have already been promoted to foreman.” “Santos is very smart,” Jelana put in. He smiled at her. Reagan watched the two of them together, something soft unfurling inside her at the sight of the budding feelings they had for each other. She hoped things worked out for both of them. “I’m an architect,” she told Santos. “So I work with a lot of construction companies. Which do you work for?” “Pejovic Construction.” She kept her smile in place and blinked. “Oh. Wow. What a coincidence. I just started a job with them. With Gabe Pejovic.” He grinned broadly. “That’s my boss. He’s a good man. He often hires immigrants who might not otherwise be able to find jobs. He helps us find places to live, and pays for English classes for us so we can move up in the company.” Reagan’s tipped her head to one side to consider his words. “Really,” she said slowly. “I didn’t know that about him.” “He’s not one to brag,” Santos said. “But he’s a good boss. We know business has been tough lately and yet he has not laid off a single worker.” “I’m sure that must gain him a lot of loyalty from his employees.” This information didn’t quite match with the impression she had of Gabe, the memory of him yelling outside his office, his brusque manner, his forceful presence. “Yes that is true.” He nodded and lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. “You are fortunate to work with him.”
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She smiled. “I’m sure I am.” Not exactly how she’d been feeling, but this was interesting. “Well, I should get going,” she said, rising. “Thanks for the coffee and the visit, Jelana. And nice to meet you, Santos.” “Wait,” Jelana said, jumping up. “I have something for you…” She lifted a big bunch of fresh herbs from a glass of water on the counter. “I know you like this…fresh basil.” “Oh, wow.” Reagan took the basil from her in both hands. “I do love fresh basil, thank you so much.” “I have tons growing out back,” Jelana said. “I picked some yesterday but I’ll never use it all.” “Thank you.” She hugged Jelana. “I’ll go buy some pine nuts and parmesan and make pesto with this.” As she left Jelana’s house, touched by the small gift, that aching yearning feeling started again deep inside her, triggered by seeing how Santos looked at Jelena with heat and affection, and how that was reflected in her eyes when she looked back at him. But Reagan’s feelings were also triggered by once again thinking about Gabe.
***** The Beaches Care Home was located just south of Santa Barbara, not on the ocean but near it, with lovely grounds landscaped with flowers, shrubs and palm trees. It was expensive but Gabe considered it worth it to know that his mother was getting the best care. Not that she even realized where she was any more, but he knew it, and he wanted to make sure she was well looked after. And he’d been told that although her cognitive and memory functions were no longer there, she still had the capacity to feel frightened or at peace, lonely or loved, or sad. So he’d surrounded her in her room with personal belongings, music, candles scented with the lavender fragrance she’d always loved. They didn’t have a lot of family photographs, having lost so much in Bosnia, but what few they had, he’d framed and set near her bed. And he talked to her when he visited, about anything that came to mind. The last few weeks she’d been generally confined to bed, although he’d been taking her for a walk on the grounds in her wheelchair. Her care lately had been focused on keeping her comfortable. He’d had a lot of time to grieve, knowing the end wasn’t far away. He found her in her room, seated in her wheelchair, ready to go out, a nurse there with her. She needed care pretty much twenty-four seven now. “Hello, Majka.” He bent and kissed her forehead. She stared back at him blankly. The familiar pain shafted through him at her lack of recognition but he smiled anyway. “You look gorgeous today as always. I brought you flowers.” As he did every Sunday, different flowers so
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as to mix things up a bit, but still, colorful, fresh-scented flowers. Majka always responded to the flowers, perhaps to the scent of them, so he held the bouquet near her face. Her faded eyes brightened as she breathed in and Gabe’s chest tightened. “And I brought Lucy to see you.” The fluffy white dog leaped up on to his mother’s lap in her wheelchair and she automatically reached for her. Lucy took a swipe with her tongue. The home encouraged pets to visit, feeling it was therapeutic for patients, and Gabe had to admit that his mom reacted more to Lucy than to anyone else. “She’s happy to see you too,” he said to his mom. “You’re all ready to go out, I see.” He looked at the nurse, who smiled back at him. “She’s been in a lot of pain this week,” the nurse said gently and gave an update on his mother’s condition. He listened attentively, confident that decisions that had been made about interventions at this point would have been what his mother wanted. He didn’t want her to be in pain. He ignored the ache deep inside him. Then he lifted Lucy down and let her trot along beside them on her leash as he pushed the wheelchair out of the room, down the hall and through the airy front foyer of the facility. Outside, his mother’s white hair gleamed in the sun, her parchment-thin skin pale and translucent in the bright light. She never answered him any more, but he talked anyway, telling her anything he could think of about his business, about Lucy, about his new home and how he was decorating it. At one end of the grounds he parked the wheelchair beside a bench in the shade of some sycamore trees, and lifted Lucy back to his mother’s lap. “Remember how she liked to be rubbed, Majka?” he said, and amazingly, she let Lucy do her little flip in her arms so her belly was available for rubbing and Majka’s hand slowly, shakily stroked the soft little tummy. His mom didn’t know what day it was or even who he was, but she always seemed to know Lucy. It was both sad and sweet. It had been hard for Gabe to accept what was happening to his mother when her mind had started deteriorating years ago. After all they had both been through in Bosnia, after he’d been able to find her and bring her to America, after fighting so hard and surviving so much, in the end she’d been a victim of something else entirely― Alzheimer’s. Helpless frustration had eaten away inside him at the fact that there was nothing he could do to make her better. He, to whom control was so important, had no control over this horrible illness. It still made him burn with anger and frustration, but over the years he’d had no choice but to accept it and deal with it, and even though his mother couldn’t speak, couldn’t even smile, he knew she still had feelings and he was determined that her last days would be as peaceful and beautiful as he could make them. Lucy loved the attention, and she relaxed into Majka’s arms and the caresses, and Gabe watched the two of them with both a smile and an aching heart. Majka’s level of responsiveness told him she probably didn’t have long left to live. He knew the end
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was coming, but every Sunday when he visited he still held a faint hope that she’d be better. Seeing her so frail and so withdrawn was still hard. They strolled more around the park-like grounds of the home, pausing here and there to admire some flowers. Majka didn’t say anything but she’d always loved flowers, the brighter colored the better, and he hoped that seeing these exotic bright blooms penetrated the barriers that were blocking her mind. They watched a squirrel run across a path and Lucy tried to chase it, barking at it, held back by Gabe’s grip on her leash. “You want that squirrel, don’t you girl,” Gabe said, smiling. “I’m not sure what you’d actually do if you caught it. But I guess we don’t want to find out.” He spent a couple of hours just walking and talking, talking to both the whitehaired girls, he reflected wryly, the small canine female and the older woman in the wheelchair, and neither of them answered him back. He might as well be talking to himself, and in a way he was. Sometimes he thought it was just as therapeutic for him as for his majka. He thought of Reagan and his mixed up feelings about her, the physical attraction he’d felt for her Friday when they’d been at the olive ranch, his frustration at her turning down his dinner invitation. He thought of telling Majka about her, but that seemed to be giving too much importance to a woman who was just a business colleague. So as usual, he pushed away that thought and ignored the jumbled feelings.
***** Monday morning at the office Reagan was feeling pretty good about the tasting room project. She’d done some work over the weekend, and had some preliminary numbers. If their meeting that afternoon went well and she and Gabe could meet one more time this week, they’d be well on their way to coming up with a proposal they could present to Tara and Joe which hopefully would convince them they could work together on this project. “Hey, Sunshine.” Ross paused at the door to her small office. “How was your weekend?” “It was very good,” she replied with only a small smile for him. “How about yours?” “Fucking A,” he said. “Went out with some buddies Saturday night. Lots of hot chicks at the bar we were at.” He winked at her. She resisted the urge to shudder. “Sounds amazing.” His smirk faded at her chilly tone of voice. “Yeah. Well. How’s that new project going? The wine tasting room.” “It’s not a wine tasting room. It’s an olive oil tasting room.” He snorted. “Oh yeah. Sounds like fun. Tasting olive oil.
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She tipped her head to one side. “It’s going fine. Thanks for asking. I have a lot of work to do on it today.” “Mike asked me to check with you and see how it’s going.” She blinked. “Oh. Really?” Why on earth had her boss asked Ross to do that? Mike was going to work closely with her on this, since she was junior, but…Ross? “Yeah. I think he’s wondering if you can handle it on your own. Being so new. And…” “And what?” He didn’t reply, as if even he knew not to say it. To her face, anyway. Or even to some of the other guys. Most of the guys in the office were nice guys who believed women were equal in every way and just as capable as men. Some of them were a little clueless about the dirty jokes and subtly sexist remarks they made. She knew they didn’t mean to be offensive. On the other hand, she was pretty sure Ross did. She eyed him now, lounging in her doorway, and debated how to respond to him. “And what?” she repeated. “New and inexperienced,” Ross said. He smiled and she gritted her teeth. “I’m here to help, Sunshine.” “Please don’t call me that.” He stared at her. “Call you what? Sunshine?” “Yes. I don’t care for it.” “It never bothered you before.” “Actually, it has for some time. I just decided you should know that.” “Oh. Uh…” “And Mike and are going to be meeting regularly to review the status of the project and I assured him I’d ask for help if I need it. So if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She turned her back on him to focus on her computer, and with a small grunt, he left. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was gone, then breathed out. Whew. She’d done it. She smiled and shimmied her shoulders a little. All those assertiveness training courses had paid off. She left a voice mail for Tara Lockhart, asking to meet with her and Joe one more time for some additional details about the tasting room concept, then got back to work to prepare for her meeting with Gabe that afternoon. He arrived at exactly four o’clock, thankfully, since she’d been compulsively glancing at her watch since ten minutes to the hour. She’d touched up her lipstick and brushed her hair too. She’d do that for any important client meeting. Sure she would. She showed him into her small office and closed the door. When she turned, he seemed to fill the space with his presence and her skin immediately tingled. “Have a
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seat,” she invited, gesturing to the small work table in the corner of the room. He dwarfed the small office chair when he sat. She took a seat opposite him, fighting for composure. “Thanks for coming here this time,” she said. “I know how busy you are.” “I’m sure you are too,” he said politely. She smiled. “I met someone who works for you on the weekend,” she remarked, picking up a pen. “Oh yeah? Who?” He frowned. “Santos Bustamente.” “Oh yeah! Santos. Great guy. Very smart. He’s going to move up fast in the company now his English is getting better.” “He told me you pay for English lessons for your staff.” “Er. Yeah.” He shifted in his seat and dropped his eyes to the table. “That’s really awesome.” He shrugged. “I was new to the country at one time. I’ve been lucky. So if I can help others, why not.” She studied him, the way he appeared uncomfortable at her compliment, and knew there was more to his success than just luck. Something inside her softened and warmed. She pushed those feelings aside launched into business mode. “How does Wednesday work for you for lunch?” His eyebrows drew together. “With Tara and Joe,” she added hastily. “I spoke to her this afternoon and they’re both really busy so she suggested having lunch.” “Wednesday. Yeah. I can do that.” “Great.” She gave him a bright smile and got on with their business discussion, which was actually very productive even though she was spine-tinglingly aware of his presence, and had to concentrate hard on business. If she lifted her eyes from her papers to take in his strong arms, sleeves rolled up on forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair, she got all fluttery deep down inside. If her glance connected with his intense cobalt blue one, she shivered. If her gaze caught on his mouth, his perfect chiseled lips, her own lips parted. She swallowed and pressed her lips together, staring blindly at the papers in front of her. “So I think the tasting room should have a pink neon sign out front,” Gabe said. She nodded and caught her top lip between her teeth briefly, still staring at her papers. His laugh had her eyes flying open and she looked up at him. “What’s wrong, Reagan?” he asked softly, tossing down his pen.
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“Nothing.” She blinked at him. Then his words sank in and she frowned. “Pink neon? What the hell are you talking about?” He grinned and linked his hands behind his head, leaning back. Sweet Jesus, he was gorgeous. The pose accentuated the width of his shoulders, the muscles beneath the fine cotton of his dress shirt, the flatness of his stomach. She felt herself sinking. “I thought you were distracted.” “I’m not. I’m fine.” “Sure.” His smile tugged at something deep inside her. He glanced at his watch. “What time are you done here?” “Er. Five.” She looked at her own watch. “Now.” She grimaced. “But we just have a few more things to go over…” “Let’s go get a drink.”
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Chapter Seven She blinked at him. “A drink?” “Yeah. I have no more meetings either. We can finish this over a drink and then we’ll be ready to meet with Joe and Tara on Wednesday.” “I don’t…” “Oh for god’s sake,” he said, irritability roughening his voice. “It’s a drink. I’ll even let you buy.” She stared at him for one heartbeat, two…then burst out laughing. “Gee, thanks.” He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He rose to his feet, his large body surprisingly graceful. “I could use a beer.” She nodded and rose too. “I guess I can go now. I just need to shut down my computer.” She moved behind her desk and perched on the edge of her chair as she shut down. She could always come back later and finish some things. It wasn’t often that she actually left right at five o’clock. In her peripheral vision she was aware of him looking around her office, hands in pockets. There wasn’t much to see. Like him, she didn’t have a lot of family photographs or personal possessions in her office, although there was a picture of her parents framed and sitting on a bookshelf. He didn’t ask where they should go, just led the way up Canon Perdido to State Street, turned right and then led her into a small bar. She should have protested his authoritarianism but she just didn’t have it in her at that point, and much as she’d been trying to do the hard thing since she’d moved there, letting him take charge just felt so…easy. “On the patio,” he told the hostess, who led them to a small table on the narrow outdoor space between two buildings. There weren’t many empty tables left, even at only a few minutes after five. Music played from some speakers and the traffic on State Street was mostly muted, other than one big truck that roared past and a distant siren. “I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc,” she requested from the cute waitress who appeared. The girl turned to Gabe with a flirty smile. Reagan lifted a brow. He was old enough to be the girl’s father for god’s sake. But there was no denying his attractiveness, and his virility was beyond question as well. Gabe ordered a beer. “Okay,” he said. “Just so you don’t think I lured you here on false pretenses. Let’s talk about those subcontractors.” She bent her head so he wouldn’t see her smile and they discussed civil and structural engineers, electrical and mechanical engineers and landscape surveyors.
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Then Gabe sat back in his chair, picked up his beer and took a long pull from the bottle. “So why did you need a drink?” she asked. He frowned. “Back at the office. You said you could use a beer.” “Ah.” He rubbed the back of his neck and she experienced a sudden urge to reach out and rub it for him, to ease the tightness she imagined he felt in those muscles. “I don’t know. Just…lots of stuff. Right now.” “Well. That’s vague.” He smiled, a reluctant, slow, very sexy smile. “I don’t want to bore you with my midlife crisis again.” His smile tugged an answering one from her. “Did you enjoy your date Friday night?” he asked, changing the subject. Date? “Oh. Yes, it was very nice. You know Kevin?” “Sure. He’s the competition.” She looked at him. “I mean, construction business competition,” he added. What did he think she thought he’d meant? After the sizzling tension between them that Friday afternoon, and the thicker tension that night when she and Kevin had run into him on the wharf, it probably wasn’t surprising that the word “competition” made her think of other things than business. Which was really silly. There was nothing between her and Gabe but business. And a few sparks. “I guess you are in competition,” she said slowly, watching his face. His eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his broad chest. The fierceness of his expression had her stomach clenching. “You didn’t think of that? Did you think about him stepping up if we don’t work things out on this project?” She stared at him. Shook her head slowly. “No. I never thought that. Joe and Tara want you to work on this project. Not Kevin.” She wanted him to work on this project. She wanted him to…stop. She shook her head more vigorously. “You could influence them. Are you two serious?” “Me and Kevin?” She laughed. “No. We’ve dated a few times, that’s all.” His tightlipped expression made her insides go even more soft and trembly. “I’m not going to screw you around, Gabe.” His eyes assessed her coolly. “I never said that.” “You thought it.”
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“No.” She wanted to call him on that but stopped herself. “What happened to your marriage?” He lifted his chin and picked up his beer again. “You just made quite a conversational leap.” “Not really.” She held his gaze steadily. “If you think all women are out to screw you around, it had to come from somewhere.” “I don’t think that!” He shook his head. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s Wynne.” “Oh? Why is that?” He pursed his lips and regarded her for a moment. “We’ve lost a couple of jobs to him lately. I…never mind. I’m not going to accuse someone of something ugly when it’s just a suspicion.” She gave him a sharp look. “Bid rigging?” “I never said that.” Her insides tightened. “I can’t believe Kevin would do that.” “Forget I even said it.” He sighed. “The truth is, he’s a good builder and a sharp businessman. It’s hard to lose out on good jobs. Times are tough these days.” “Yes.” She eyed him. “Santos mentioned that despite the economy you haven’t laid off any staff.” “You two had quite the conversation about me, didn’t you.” “We spent hours talking about you. It was fascinating.” He snorted. She laughed. “He looks up to you Gabe. And I’m sure your other employees do too.” “That’s not what you thought the other day,” he reminded her. “I do believe you thought I was being abusive.” She remembered her boldness in his office that afternoon with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I was out of line that day,” he said. “I was…stressed. I apologized later to both Gunther and Tracy.” “She’s very protective of you.” His chin lowered abruptly. “She is?” “She is.” “Well.” He appeared to consider that. “That’s kind of funny.” He shrugged. “I’ve had to fight with the new board of directors not to lay off staff.” He looked away. “That’s their first line to cut costs.” “Sometimes that’s inevitable. If the work’s not coming in…you have to have work for them.”
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“Yeah. And my first way to deal with the problem was to get out there and do some creative marketing and bring in other jobs. We’ve taken a lot of smaller jobs the last few years. Luckily some big jobs too.” “That’s smart.” She tipped her head to one side. “Maybe another way to cut costs would be not paying for your staff to go to school to learn English.” “Yeah. Not gonna happen. That’s important. I’ve already told the board that.” She smiled, warmth expanding even more inside her. “You have a board of directors? Aren’t you the owner of the company?” “Not any more.” He smiled briefly. “I still have some shares. I sold the company a few years ago, thinking that I could take life a little easier. But I stayed on as CEO and…well, it hasn’t been any easier. Now I answer to other people.” “And you don’t like that.” He met her eyes. “No. I don’t.” “Neither do I.” Sparks once again danced in the air around them, making her skin warm and tingly. “What happened to your marriage?” he asked softly, leaning closer. She moved her head from side to side. “You didn’t answer my question. What makes you think I’ll answer yours?” “Fair enough. My wife…” He hesitated and she sensed he was about to tell her something he hadn’t told many people. Her chest tightened. “My wife didn’t like to have sex.” She choked on her wine. “Oh.” He grinned and once again, the genuine smile lit up his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled up appealingly. “You asked.” She licked her bottom lip. She wanted to look him up and down and say, “Was she crazy?” because he was gorgeous and so damn sexy she was having a hard time concentrating on business every time she was with him, lust rolling inside her. But instead she looked down at her hands holding the stem of her wineglass. “Sex can definitely ruin a marriage,” she said. “Speaking from experience?” he asked softly. “You know, this is an entirely inappropriate conversation for two business colleagues,” she said, unhappy with the breathless quality of her voice. But when she looked up at him and saw the way he was looking at her, pretty much the up and down, I-want-to-eat-you-up look she’d wanted to give him a moment ago, with an added layer of power, her entire body went hot. “We can’t be friends, too?” he asked softly. She tried to ignore the inferno in her face. “Mr. Pejovic.” She leaned across the table. “Are you flirting with me?”
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Flirting? He didn’t know how the hell to flirt. His relationships had involved seeking people out in the club, women with needs that matched his own. The feeling that Reagan had those needs kept growing every time he saw her. And yet she didn’t seem aware of it at all. Aware of him, certainly. He wasn’t oblivious to the sexual tension arcing between them every time they met. He’d been amused by her distraction earlier in his office, knew she was feeling it too. But the subtle cues that told him what she needed were at odds with her determination to appear assertive and in control. Her innocence and gentleness, the way her gaze dropped sometimes, not with uncertainty― she was clearly confident and assertive―but rather just a subtle deference in her tone and body language. The way she tried so hard to keep control. It was annoying. Frustrating. Sexy as hell. And a challenge. He sipped his beer, watching her, and he thought of Tori. How her strength had appealed to him. How an easy conquest no longer satisfied. And he had to admit, despite the hints of submission, Reagan was strong. But what the hell was he thinking? He’d already decided he was taking a break, no matter how appealing the sub. On the other hand, flirting―just flirting, with a woman, not in the club―was…fun. She waited for his answer and he shook his head, smiling in spite of his internal battle between the decision he’d made and his attraction to her. Between his certainty that he could give her something and his suspicion that she could make him feel things he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel. “You know what?” He too leaned forward, voice low among the other people on the patio, feeling like he was stepping off a scaffolding into thin air. “I think I am.” He held her gaze challengingly. What was she going to do about that? Her eyes darkened, her lips parted and then that telltale sweep of her eyelashes onto her smooth cheeks gave her away. His smile broadened. “You shouldn’t be,” she said firmly, with just the tiniest quiver in her voice. “Why not?” “I said—it’s not appropriate professional behavior.” “Our business meeting is over.” Their eyes met with almost tangible impact and his dick surged. “Then I should go,” she said. “What are you afraid of, Reagan?” “I’m not afraid.” Something stirred inside him, a need to get inside her head and find out what all her hopes and dreams were, what she needed, what she wanted, what all those fears were that she denied having. Everyone had fears. And he wanted to use all those things ― to control her, yes, but also to take care of her. To give her what she wanted and needed. Even if she didn’t know what that was. 67
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Christ, he was hard as a post now, sitting there on the patio in the growing twilight, little white lights strung in trees twinkling, the serving staff lighting flickering votive candles on all the tables. Her eyes, big and shadowy regarded him across the table. “You wanted us to get along,” he said. And waited for her reaction. She was either going to stand up and walk out in a pissed-off huff, or… She smiled. “True.” Hope flared inside him, hot and wild, along with desire and an almost frightening need. He lifted a hand to his chest, the fierce heat inside startling to him. He hadn’t felt anything like this for so long, so long…maybe ever. “Are you hungry?” he murmured. “We could order dinner.” “I’m…not really hungry.” And yet something shone in her eyes—a sort of hunger. But not for food. “Come to my place, then,” he said. “I want you to see my house.” She blinked. “Your house.” “Yeah. I designed it myself. Come see what you think of my architectural abilities.” He smiled again. “I know you were doubting I have any.” Her sexy smile shot heat straight to his groin. “You’re right,” she said. “But I changed my mind after we went out to the olive ranch last week.” He lifted an eyebrow, pleasure at her words rolling unexpectedly through him. “So I don’t have to prove it to you by showing you my house?” Her chin lowered and her eyelashes fluttered down once more. And he knew. “Let’s go.” He rose to his feet, tossed some bills onto the table to cover their drinks, and held out a hand to her. She may not know, but he did…she didn’t want him to ask. She just wanted him to do it. She laid her hand in his and stood too. Today she wore a dress instead of her usual business suit, an entirely modest dress of a stretchy black and white print jersey fabric, with a high neckline and little sleeves, but it hugged her body from breasts to knees and he wanted to peel her out of it. He cursed the fact that they both had cars there, both parked in the small lot at the back of the building that housed Pacific Design. “Will you follow me?” he asked her, a momentary fear striking him that she would just disappear. “Yes.” He gave her the address just in case, then waited at the exit of the parking lot until she was right behind him in her car. It wasn’t far. Down State Street, left on Cabrillo, past East Beach, around past the bird refuge, the cemetery, onto Coast Village Road and then Olive Mill Road. He kept an eye on his rear view mirror, making sure she was behind him the whole time, even down the narrow hedge and tree-lined lane that led to his home. He pulled into his garage, and was standing in the open door as she pulled into the driveway. 68
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“Nice neighborhood,” she said, emerging from her car. “I like it.” He led the way down the narrow sidewalk to the gate in the high fence that obscured the house from view from the road, then through his small back yard. He watched her study the house as they approached. She glanced at him and smiled. “Much as I appreciate the Mediterranean style of Santa Barbara and the design challenges of adhering to that, it’s kind of refreshing to see something different.” She looked up at the sprawling house covered in weathered gray wooden shake siding, with wide white window trim, blue-gray shutters and the series of dormers on the second floor. “We’re not in Santa Barbara here,” he said, unlocking the back door. “It’s Montecito.” He enjoyed watching her study the house, taking it all in with avid, interested eyes. Hell, it had totally been a pretext inviting her here to see his house, and she no doubt knew it, but still, it pleased him to show her something that she was taking so much pleasure in. An excited series of barks and whines split the quiet evening and Lucy came hurtling through the house to leap up and down in front of him. “Hey, Lucy girl.” He bent and picked her up, knowing she wouldn’t shut up until he’d done so and let her greet him. His eyes met Reagan’s over the dog’s head as Lucy attacked him with her tongue. Reagan smiled. “Your dog,” she said. “What’s her name? Lucy?” “Yeah. And don’t even think of making fun of her. Me, that’s okay. Not her.” Reagan laughed. “I would never. She’s beautiful. What kind of dog is she?” “I don’t know. I got her at a shelter. They thought some kind of Bichon mix, maybe terrier. She’s a handful.” He sighed, afraid of what he was going to see when he stepped into the kitchen. But tonight was a good night, because it appeared Lucy had stayed out of trouble for once. Reagan sauntered through his spacious kitchen, nodding approvingly at the maple cupboards, stainless steel appliances and gleaming granite counters, into the living room where she stopped. And stared. “The ocean?” she asked, moving toward the large windows. “You can’t see it as well as in the daylight,” he said, following behind her. Lights from oil rigs winked out near the horizon, and stars were just starting to faintly appear in the cobalt sky. “It’s beautiful, Gabe.” “Thanks. Come outside.” He opened a French door and they stepped out onto the deck, the same weathered gray as the shingles on the house. “Oh, this is gorgeous.” She moved to the railing and set her hands on it. The evening breeze tugged tendrils of her hair away from her face. He paused beside her. “Yeah. Gorgeous.” But he was looking at her. 69
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She turned to him, her eyes bright, a smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. “The view, Gabe.” He grinned. “You designed this?” “Shocking huh?” She shook her head. “Not shocking. Impressive, though. Very impressive.” “Thanks. Coming from you, that means a lot.” She turned back to him, this time her eyes more serious. “Why?” “Because you’re an architect. And you’re…very talented. See,” he murmured, edging a little closer, wanting to touch her so bad. “We’re getting along much better now. You just need to be nice to me, that’s the secret.” She snorted and he laughed, and god, it felt good to laugh. It all just felt…good. It was like a drug to him, a powerful drug, his reaction triggered by her hints of submission, something to which he was attuned in anyone he met. He’d made a decision after that night at the club that he was done with it, with the domination and submission thing, and he’d tried to resist her, but he couldn’t resist the powerful allure of her submission, like an addict couldn’t resist the high. It didn’t have to be like that though. It could just be…sex. He almost groaned out loud.
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Chapter Eight What was she doing there? Reagan stood on Gabe’s deck beneath the moonlight and starlight and Gabe’s intense gaze, his dark blue eyes as deep and mesmerizing as the night sky. The way he looked at her, with power and compelling strength, made her want to drop to her knees in front of him. Which horrified her. Clearly Gabe liked to be in control―the tension snapping between them over that had been obvious from the moment they’d met. And she was determined that never again was a man going to tell her what to do, to take over everything, to control her life. Never again was she going to be trapped like that, at someone else’s mercy. But then she studied him, the breeze lifting his dark hair just slightly, the moonlight highlighting the silver at his temples, his expression not fierce or forbidding, but rather gentle and warm and intent. And she wanted to laugh at her fears, because this was far from him controlling her life or trapping her. This was one night with one attractive man. It was her choice to be there. Nobody was forcing her, and why did it have to be different than any other time she’d been with a man? Why couldn’t she just enjoy it? She ignored the faint suspicion inside her that said oh hell yeah, this was different, this man was way different than any other man she’d ever met in her life. This was not the kind of man she should be spending time with, all forceful and overpowering. This was the kind of man she should be staying far, far away from, the kind of man who could be her downfall. She should be with someone like Kevin—kind, gentle…nice. But Kevin didn’t tempt her like Gabe did. And so she focused on her rationale for why she could do this―one night. Hot attraction. That’s all. “I like it when you laugh,” she said. His eyes darkened even more. “I don’t laugh very often.” “I know.” “You’re saying I’m a bad-tempered son of a bitch.” She smiled. “If the hardhat fits…” He laughed again, then closed his eyes briefly as if it almost pained him. “Reagan.” “Mmm?” “Come see the rest of the house.” She hid her smile as she followed him back into the house. His house was not decorated in single-guy-big-screen-television-stereo-and-exercise-equipment style but rather had a casual, comfortable elegance. She eyed the wall of bookshelves loaded with books, wanted to explore more there. “Did your wife live here with you?” she asked.
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He shot her a sideways look. “No. We divorced a long time ago. I just built this house a couple of years ago.” “Oh.” “Why?” “Never mind. I’ve already complimented you enough tonight. I don’t want your head to get too big.” “Too late for that,” he muttered, tugging on one pant leg. It took her a second and then she burst out laughing. “You made a joke again.” He frowned. “Now you’re saying I don’t have a sense of humor? Not much chance of my ego swelling with you around.” She couldn’t help it. Her eyes dropped to his groin. Speaking of swelling…she looked back up at him and his dark eyes burned with a blue flame. He moved his head from side to side, but his lips twitched and she had to smile too. “I know you have a sense of humor,” she said softly. “You just keep it pretty well hidden behind all that surliness.” He made a little choking sound. “Just when I think you’re getting nice, you backhand me again.” They stood there in his living room, on a patterned blue and gray and white carpet, with navy-blue leather furniture around them, looking at each other. A floor lamp next to the couch illuminated a circle and they stood just inside it. The air crackled and heated and Reagan’s skin tightened. Lust rolled through her in a hard, hot wave. “Can I see your bedroom?” she asked. “Christ, Reagan!” She peered up at him and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Was that too forward for him? “If you come with me into my bedroom, you’re not getting out,” he growled. “Ever?” She grinned. “Fuck.” He reached for her. “You have a mouth on you. Let’s see what else you can do with it.” Oh dear lord. Everything inside her melted at his bordering-on-crude words. In one graceful move, he swung her up into his arms. She gave a little gasp and grabbed his shoulders. She should protest. She didn’t need to be carried, because this was her choice, dammit, not his. But his big hard body against hers, his strong arms around her as he strode down a hall and then started up the stairs, had her heart hammering and her tummy fluttering. The way he carried her with such gentle strength didn’t make her feel weak or helpless, but rather made her feel protected and cared for. “I think you should put me down,” she said as he climbed the stairs. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
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He snorted. “I don’t think so. You’re pretty skinny.” “Skinny! I am not skinny!” She glared at him, arms looped around his neck. His grin once again snatched her breath away from her. She could only stare in bemused fascination at the way his face changed, lightened and softened, and something about the way his smile affected her so viscerally was almost…scary. She swallowed, unable to look away. In the upstairs hall, he used his foot to push open a door and entered a bedroom. A huge bedroom, that extended most of the width of the house. As he lowered her feet to the floor, she gazed around in dazed curiosity. “Take your time looking around,” Gabe said, releasing her. “I’m only dying here.” She sent him a sexy smile. “I thought you wanted me to see your house.” He smiled back. Sure, she wanted to explore the big room, to sit in one of the squishy chairs in one dormer nook, to check out the big whirlpool tub on a platform in another nook. She took two steps toward it, intrigued by the window right beside the tub. “That looks out over the ocean, doesn’t it?” “Yeah.” “Oh, my.” He moved up behind her and set his hands on her hips. His breath teased the hair over her ear and made her shiver as he said, “We can take a bath there. Later. Or another time when you can see the view.” “Oh.” The word came out on a soft exhalation. A bath. With him. Her legs turned to butter and she almost slid to the floor. An ache low down ache inside her intensified and heat swept over her. His hands rubbed over her abdomen in slow circles, tugging her back against him. Her head fell back onto his shoulder and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to his strength. He rubbed his face against her hair, his nose nuzzling her cheek, his breath teasing her ear. Her breasts ached, her nipples throbbed, her womb clenched. When his lips opened on her neck, heat flashed beneath her skin and she moaned. “Reagan.” He sucked gently on her flesh and shivers cascaded over her body. “You’re so sweet.” She made a little noise, not even a word. His mouth felt so good on her, his hands moving on her stomach, one hand moving up, inch-by-inch, the other down. Her breasts ached for his touch, swelled at the anticipation of it. His body behind her was hard and hot, surrounding her in warmth and a faint, fresh, woodsy-citrus scent. When his hand found her breast and cupped it, a delicious slow warm shudder rocked her body and she let out another moan. He moved his hand over her breast, lightly massaging, gently squeezing, and pleasure rolled through her. His other hand inched lower, to her lower tummy, then pressed on her pubic bone where she was
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super sensitive. She jumped in his arms, her womb contracting hard, and gave a little cry. He lifted one hand to move her hair aside then licked the side of her neck, took her earlobe gently between his lips and tugged. Her head tipped more to the side to give him access and she lifted her hands to cover his, holding his palm harder against her breast, moving his other hand back to the juncture of her thighs where she pulsed with longing. His breath hitched. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Oh my god, Gabe.” “Yeah.” Her body arched and undulated against his, against his hands, needing more, so much more. She lifted her arm and curled it around the back of his head where he still kissed and nibbled on her neck. She wanted to turn her head and find his mouth with hers, but she didn’t want their first kiss to be like that. Their first kiss would be face-toface, full frontal contact. Eyes closed, she let sensation shimmer over her, his short hair soft beneath her fingertips, his mouth hot on her skin, heat rippling in waves beneath her skin, that ache down between her legs pinching into near pain. “Mmm.” “Soft skin,” he murmured. “Soft hair. You taste so good too, Reagan.” She moved her butt against him, feeling his hard on, which was very, very hard, and he groaned. And then the hand at her groin moved lower still, over the fabric of her dress. “Hot,” he whispered. “Like you’re burning up there.” “I am burning up.” She parted her thighs, just a little, and his fingers slipped between them, cupped her and almost lifted her, putting pressure right on her clit. She sucked in air and went up on her tiptoes. Her insides tightened, a flame twisting inside her. The hand on her breast tightened and then rubbed over her dress and bra, and her fingernails digging into the back of his neck drew a low hiss from him. “Need this?” he asked in a low voice, his fingers moving between her legs. “Oh yeah.” It was nice, it felt good, but she needed more. More. She pushed herself away from him and turned to face him. They stared at each other as she lifted her hands to her hair and shoved it back off her face, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. And then she was in his arms, in that full frontal embrace she’d wanted, breasts flattened against his hard chest and they were kissing. It was the best first kiss. His mouth was perfect, he kissed perfectly and he tasted delicious, warm and male. She couldn’t get enough—opened her mouth wider against his, let his tongue slide in, sucked on it, but it still wasn’t enough. She made a little growl of frustration into his mouth.
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“Fuck.” Gabe gasped against her mouth, lifting her leg up to his hip. That helped, and she tilted her pelvis against him, seeking what she needed. Their mouths sealed again, tongues sliding, sucking on each other, wild and rapacious. He slid his hand up her thigh, beneath her dress, all the way to her hip, fingertips grazing the string of her thong panties. She wanted to jump him. So she did. She shoved him backward to the huge bed and with one hand on his chest laid him out flat on his back. His stunned expression almost made her laugh, but then she was on top of him, skirt hiked up around her thighs, straddling him. She stretched out over him to kiss him again, long, wet and hot, both hands now in his hair. “Jesus,” he gasped. “Reagan…” His shirt felt almost damp, he was so burning hot, and she slid one hand inside the collar, dragged her fingertips over his skin, down to her collarbone. The top button popped as she pushed her hand deeper inside his shirt to cup his big shoulder, then rub over his chest. “Ah, Christ, that feels good,” he groaned. “Sorry about the shirt.” “Fuck the shirt.” She licked her lips, wondering if she was strong enough to rip off all the other buttons. She’d never done that. It seemed very aggressive…very woman-in-charge. But she lowered her mouth to his chest and opened it on his skin then took the safe route and started unbuttoning the shirt. She smiled a little and lifted up to complete her task. When she spread his shirt open to reveal his chest, her breath caught and she stared down at him. So beautiful. Slabs of muscle, sleek tanned skin, a dusting of dark hair between flat brown nipples—her mouth literally watered and she worked more, pushing the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. She kissed everything she revealed, then shifted over him, rubbing her breasts against his bare chest as she did so, and kissed his mouth. He tried to reach for her but his arms were trapped in the shirt. She laughed and kissed him again. “You’re at my mercy,” she teased, and flicked her tongue over his bottom lip. His face tightened. “Hell no,” he growled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.” She opened her mouth on his jaw, enjoying the rough stubble there, rubbed over one of his nipples with her fingertips. His body jerked and then a loud ripping sound filled the bedroom as he rolled her to her back and tore his shirt off. She stared up at him wide eyed. His features had hardened into almost savage lines and she blinked at him, at the set of his strong jaw, the straight line of his mouth. “Gabe?” He closed his eyes briefly, then dropped his head to the pillow beside her, breathing heavily.
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“Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t like being trapped.” She lifted her hands to his bare shoulders. “I…I was just playing around.” His reaction puzzled her. He was so big and strong, what on earth could he fear from her? “I know.” He pressed his face to the space between her neck and shoulder and his breath heated her skin. She slid her hands onto his back. “I know.” Then he moved over her and kissed her again, slower, gentler, but just as hot and delicious, his mouth moving on hers, opening her wide to him, his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth in a seductive rhythm. He moved over her and the weight of his body was a sweet pressure into the mattress of his bed. Once again, his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her dress up. “How does this thing come off?” he asked. She smiled. “The zipper’s at the back.” “Excellent.” He moved off her and rolled her to her tummy. She pressed her face to the silky duvet cover as his fingers found the zip and drew it down. Cool air brushed her back and his fingertips grazed her skin as he removed the dress, sliding it down over her arms, then hips and finally tugging it off. Her cheeks heated as she thought of what he was seeing—her laying there in her thong underwear, which covered, well, nothing, and her bra. Then the bra loosened around her back as he flicked it open. He got rid of it, barely moving her to do so, and then oh, lord, his tongue dragged all the way up her spine, from the small of her back where she ached with lust, to the nape of her neck. She shivered and gave a whimper. “Beautiful,” he murmured behind her, brushing her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. Every nerve ending flared with heat as she felt the warmth of his body moving against her, his mouth, his tongue. And then his hands, stroking her butt cheeks, so gently, shaping them to fill his palms, teasing the crease where buttock joined thigh, so sensitive it made her shiver with ticklish delight. “I take it back.” “Take what back?” Her words were muffled by the comforter. “You’re not skinny.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re perfect.” Her breath left her again. “And these are very pretty panties.” “Thank you.” She searched her mind to remember which ones she’d put on that morning but got lost in sensation before she could come up with anything. Ah well… “And this is a very pretty ass.” Oh. A soft sigh escaped her. He touched her everywhere—caressed the backs of her thighs, kissed behind her knees, gently kneaded her calves. Shockingly she realized she still wore her shoes, spiky ivory colored high heels, and more ticklish tingles rushed over her as he slipped each shoe off and kissed her feet. Oh my god. Her toes curled and her fingers dug into the duvet. “Sexy feet, even,” he murmured, opening his mouth over one ankle bone.
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Nobody had ever, ever told her that her feet were sexy. Her insides melted a little more, the liquid heat between her legs intensifying. How did he know she liked to be touched like that? How? He played with her ass, massaging her cheeks, teasing the crease between them, kissing them even, and the flames burning in her womb built higher. She eased her legs apart a bit, aching for his touch lower down, but he only teased, with his fingertips, his lips, until her hips started lifting off the bed. “You’re practically begging for it, aren’t you?” he murmured. “No.” His chuckle rasped over her senses. “I like begging, Reagan.” “I’m not going to beg.” He was silent for a moment, his fingers still playing, and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. Then he said softly, “Damn.” She was aroused to the point of fever and needed to take back control. Although lying there and letting him arouse her was very, very…pleasant. Pleasant. Ha! It was beyond that, way beyond that. It was exquisite. She rolled away from him, onto her back and pushed up. He knelt on the bed, still wearing his dress pants but shirtless, and their eyes met. She crawled across the bed to him and onto his lap, again straddling him, shoving her hands into his hair and holding his head and kissing him. His hands on her bare back stroked up and down and she pressed in closer, still wearing her panties, which, yes, were pretty ones, a pink thong with flirty ribbon bows at the sides and at the back, and which were also quite damp now. She scraped her fingernails across his scalp, eliciting a groan and then she lifted her mouth from his, kissed her way over his scratchy cheek and jaw and bent her head to his shoulder. She opened her mouth on the fleshy part, sucked a little and then gently bit down. His body twitched hard. “Christ,” he gasped, his hands tightening on her. “Reagan.” She smiled, licked the spot and moved her mouth, using her teeth again, a little harder, driven by some unknown force, some unknown need to do this to him. He jerked and shivered and then his hand fisted in her hair and he yanked her head back. The sharp bite of pain on her scalp sent thrilling sensations right to her core. Another secret trigger. She gazed back at him, their eyes meeting in the dim light, meeting and holding…and holding. She smiled a little, almost challenging him. His eyes flickered, his lips parted…she couldn’t read the expression on his face but a tiny frisson of alarm worked its way through her. He was big and strong and dominant, and she was playing a risky game with a man she barely knew. And yet…she felt safe. Sort of.
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It wasn’t Gabe she was afraid of but rather the intensity of the feelings he’d excited in her, a sharp arousal like she’d never experienced, a fierce lust, an almost protective tenderness. It was all kind of…confusing. His eyelids lowered, so sexy, his mouth softened. “I’m not sure if I like that,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?” God, where did that come from? His eyes darkened, the long dark lashes sweeping back up. “Behave, Reagan. You don’t know what you’re getting into.” He was right. But whatever it was, she wanted it. Her mouth softened and pouted a little, wanting more kissing. “I’m a big girl,” she said. “I can handle whatever you dish out.” He studied her, assessing her, and she held his gaze as long as she could before she had to drop her eyes, just briefly, blinking at his chest. And in that instant, she was on her stomach again, face down on the bed and his hand landed on her ass. She cried out in surprise as heat flashed over her flesh. He hadn’t hit her hard, but holy shit, it got her attention. Her head lifted from the bed and she looked back at him, hair hanging in her face. “What was that?” “A spanking.” His hand rubbed the spot in a warm caress and she blinked, and then he tapped her again. Heat simmered over her buttocks and her pussy went liquid. She moaned. “I’m not sure if I like that,” she gasped. But holy hell, she did. He was the sexiest man in the world, honest to god. Nobody had ever talked to her like that, so frankly, so erotically, nobody had ever spanked her like that, nobody had ever turned her on like he was. He laughed, then groaned, then slipped his fingers down between her thighs, bringing another gasp from her. “You’re wet, Reagan. So wet you’re dripping. Don’t tell me you didn’t like that.” Her cheeks heated even more at her body’s reaction to him. Then he flipped her to her back as easily as if she were one of the feather pillows. “Christ, Reagan, you’re killing me.” She stared up at him, then dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. His gaze focused in on her mouth, then lifted back to her eyes. “I am?” “Oh hell yeah.” She wanted to know more—why, how? But he was rolling off the bed and undoing his pants and she wanted to watch. With confident, unselfconscious movements, he flicked open the fastener, lowered the zipper and stepped out of both trousers and underwear, pushing his socks off, too. He stood naked beside the bed. With breathless enjoyment she took in his body―thickly muscled, with hard, flat abs, lean hips and oh…she let out a sigh…a patch of dense black hair surrounding the most beautiful penis she’d ever seen. And, um…the biggest. She rolled her lips in briefly, then opened them, anticipating when she would get to feel him in her mouth and taste his arousal.
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He touched himself, stroked his thick cock from root to tip, the head beautifully outlined by a smooth rim, still watching her. Even more than the way he looked, which was incredible, she loved the way he moved and stood there confidently, not cocky but sure of himself, at ease with himself, comfortable in his body and so very, very aroused…for her. Her hands moved to her stomach, slid up over her own body, crossing as she caressed her own breasts, then cupping her throat. One foot slid up the duvet as she bent that leg. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. He turned and yanked open the drawer of the small table beside the bed and plucked out a small package. Oh. Good thinking.
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Chapter Nine “If you come with me into my bedroom, you’re not getting out.” His earlier words echoed in his head and at that moment, he meant them, absolutely, without question. She was never leaving. His cock throbbed, his balls burned, his entire body burned like it was on fire. He tossed the condom onto the bed, because even though he was fucking dying to be inside her, he wanted to stretch it out a little more, to make sure she got as much pleasure as she could handle. Though he knew already one time with Reagan wasn’t going to be enough. What was this? He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to stop and analyze what he was feeling. Reagan was lying there on the bed, smiling at him with sultry eyes and pouty lips, looking like she wanted to eat him. Her breasts were soft on her chest, round and perfect, her belly smooth, those sexy pink panties barely covering anything at all. Her honey and caramel hair spread around her head on his dark comforter like the tangled halo of a very naughty angel. He stroked his cock again, a long pull, circling over the head, watching Reagan’s eyes drop to where he touched himself. She liked that. He smiled. Then he moved back to the bed and climbed on, and it was his turn to kneel over her, straddling her thighs. She reached for him, her small hands soft on his dick, and he groaned at her touch. Fire ripped through his balls and slid beneath his skin and he thrust into her hands. She made a little purr of pleasure, her heavy-lidded eyes watching her hands on him. Sensation tingled at the base of his spine, a coiling heat, and his body tightened. “Damn, honey. I have to stop you.” She whimpered but released him as he moved back and bent to kiss her mouth again. Her lips met his hungrily and they kissed again, long, slow, deep. Then he dragged his mouth over her chin, sucked at the tender flesh of her throat and rasped his jaw over the skin of her chest. He nuzzled between her breasts, inhaling the sweet scent of her, a complex mix of fresh fruit and flowers and feminine sweetness. He inhaled deeply, opened his mouth over the inner curve of one breast, and she trembled. “I want to devour you,” he muttered, turning his head and kissing the other breast, then moving so he could close his lips over her nipple. She cried out and her hands came up to his head, holding him there. He sucked at the sweet nub, drawing it deeply into his mouth with soft pulls that soon had her writhing beneath him. He moved to the
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other, loving the velvety texture of her skin under his tongue, the way she responded to him, her fingers tightening in his hair, her body arching. “So good.” “Oh yes, so good,” she agreed, drawing out the words breathily. He played there for a long time despite the fierce reckless hunger inside him that threatened his control. He could do this. He could control himself in order to extend her pleasure. He liked being in control, but this wasn’t about controlling her. It was about controlling himself so he could give her as much pleasure as he possibly could. And though he’d always taken pride in his self-control, at this moment, he had serious doubts about his ability to master his own body. A hot wildness rose up inside him, trying to get out. For some reason, she challenged him, with her shoving him down and climbing on top of him, trying to take charge. Eventually he lifted his head and gazed down at her breasts, her pretty nipples so stiff and red he could almost see them throbbing. He smiled admiringly at them. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Such sweet hard little nipples.” Then he dragged his tongue down her abdomen from between her breasts to her navel, then lower, licking along the top edge of her panties. Here her feminine scent deepened, going straight to his dick with aphrodisiac power. He throbbed. He hooked his fingers in the sides of the little panties and slowly dragged them over her thighs, revealing her to his avid eyes. He tossed them aside, focused on the small patch of golden-brown hair at the juncture of her thighs. “Oh, Reagan.” He sighed. She gazed back up at him, with dark, unfocused eyes, a small smile tipping the corners of her lips. He laid his palms on her thighs and gently parted them. She didn’t resist. Her sweet pussy glistened and pouted, all pink and smooth. He positioned himself between her legs, kissed her thighs, kissed the little puff of curls. “Have to taste you,” he murmured, and he took a long, slow lick. Her body twisted, she made more little noises and he licked again, up, down, then kissed her folds, soft suckling kisses everywhere he could, licking up the taste of her and swallowing it, so delicate, so sweet. He used his fingers to find her opening, probing gently inside where she was slick and wet, making her hips lift against his hand, then he parted her folds to expose her clit. He gazed down at it, so pretty, and then he kissed it, flickering his tongue over it. She cried out, her thighs tightened, her hands reached for him and grabbed his head. “Gabe, oh god, Gabe…” He murmured against her flesh and she twitched again. He slid his hands up her body to find her breasts, pinching and plucking at her nipples, her body quivering beneath him, and he fluttered his tongue over her clit again and then sucked the little bud into his mouth…and she came, hard, hips lifting, fingernails digging into his scalp, filling the bedroom with the sweet sounds of her release. He held her in his mouth until she lay still, her clit still giving little pulses. “Oh, honey,” he murmured, kissing her thigh, her hip bone. “That was so nice.”
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“Nice?” she gasped. “Good. Glad it was nice for you. For me it was…hell I don’t even know what that was.” He grinned and moved up over her. His cock ached to be inside her, but still, he wanted to do more for her. “I need you inside me,” she whispered. “Now.” “No.” Her eyes flew open. “What?” He smiled at her and kissed her mouth. “Not yet.” She whimpered. “Gabe…” He lay down beside her and stroked her hair off her damp forehead and cheek, caressed her jaw, rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Just wait.” “I don’t want to wait.” He felt like laughing, an unfamiliar amusement and joy bubbling up inside him along with painful arousal. She was a challenge, all right, and he fucking loved it. He kissed her again, cupping her face, slow sexy kisses, with sweeping tongue, gently biting her lips. He stroked her chest, her breasts, rubbed her nipples which had to be sensitive from earlier, slid his hand down over her tummy to between her legs again. Wow, he’d thought she was wet earlier, but that orgasm had brought forth even more cream. His fingers played there, slipping and rubbing, and when he brushed over her clit, she jerked against him. “Gabe,” she gasped. He did it again, so gently, making her moan. “No,” she said. “No…” “Yes.” He sought out the right spot, the right amount of pressure, judging by her response. “There?” “Oh god, yes.” He rubbed in slow circles, her wetness almost too much, until her body arched again and she gave a soft wail. She grabbed onto his arm just above the wrist and held it still. “Enough,” she gasped. “I can’t…” He smiled and kissed her again. Oh yes she could. She rolled toward him and buried her face against his chest, throwing one arm around him, trembling. He wrapped her up in his embrace, her body small and warm and soft against him. His cock pushed insistently at her hip and he closed his eyes and fought for control. He was about to come without even being inside her and he did not want that. Had he pushed his luck? Christ…his balls were drawn up so tight he might never find them. But now, he had to give her at least a few minutes, because she was going to come again, with him inside her, he wanted to feel that sweet orgasm all around him.
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They lay like that for long moments, moments of fast breathing and thumping hearts and tight muscles. He rubbed her back a little, loving the curve of it down to her sweet little ass. When her lips touched his chest, he smiled. “Now?” she whispered. He almost groaned. “Yeah. Now.” He went to roll her to her back, but she resisted, pushing back, and once again she climbed on top of him, ready to ride him. He preferred to be on top, but he did enjoy the view as she reached for the condom, ripped it open and found his cock, hot and throbbing. Her touch rolling the condom on almost undid him, and he watched the concentration on her lovely face as she did it, trying to hold back the need for release, the intense hot pressure building up inside him. Then she moved above him and slowly lowered herself onto him. “I’m not sure if this…the first time… “He was trying to warn her that being on top was going to force him really deep inside her and he was big and she was small…but words weren’t forming coherently as her heat surrounded the tip of his cock. He watched as the smooth, swollen folds parted and his broad head disappeared. “Fuck!” Sensation burned and twisted inside his body as she lowered herself more, her pussy gripping and clinging, burning hot. His gaze traveled up from where they joined, over her flushed breasts, full and soft with tightly puckered ruby nipples, to her face, also a delicate pink. Her top teeth sank into her swollen bottom lip and her eyes held a dazed expression as she slowly worked her way down onto him. Her hair gleamed gold in the lamp light, tangled around her shoulders. He reached for her hips to help guide her, aching for release, electricity tightening every nerve ending, sizzling from his balls up his spine. And then she was there, he was fully seated in her, their bodies touching intimately. She laid a hand on her stomach and blinked at him. “Okay, honey?” She gave a short nod. “So deep…almost…hurts.” “I know. Easy, honey. Take it easy.” “I don’t want it easy.” She moved on him. “I want it now.” Her words inflamed him and his hips lifted, fucking up into her with burning strokes. She rode him hard, meeting every stroke, her hands on his chest a torturous sweet pressure. Every slide of heat and wetness took him higher, growling at the pleasure overtaking him. Too fast…he’d waited too long… “Want you to come again,” he gasped, sliding a hand between them to find her clit. “With me inside you. Come for me, Reagan…” She cried out, her head went back, hair hanging down, and she reached behind her to find his tight, tortured testicles. The touch of her fingers on him, delicate and wicked, sent him over the edge. Just as he felt her pussy tighten around him, her liquid heat
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surround him, his own release exploded, harsh violent pleasure tearing through him, his balls contracting sharply in her hand. She released him and fell forward onto his chest, her hair covering his face, her face buried against his neck as they shuddered together and he spurted again and again inside her, fiery and wrenching. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as his body continued to pulse, pleasure still rippling up his spine, her pussy still milking him. Her face moved against him and then—she sank her teeth into his shoulder. He jerked sharply, the dark flash of sensation making his dick twitch yet again. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped. Then she drew her tongue over the spot she’d just bitten and his entire body quivered. Something broke inside him. Something sharp and hot and painful, and he shoved her away and rolled off the bed. He stood there for a moment, disoriented, hands on his head, sucking air into his lungs in long, painful draws. “Gabe?” Her soft voice reached his ears, but he couldn’t see her past the gray haze in front of his vision. Then he felt her touch on his shoulder, her soft hand. He jerked again, and turned to stare at her. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, her eyes full of concern. “Gabe…what’s wrong?” He couldn’t speak. He didn’t even know what was wrong. It was like that night at the club, all of a sudden he’d had some kind of intense emotional reaction to something that he couldn’t explain, didn’t understand. Why now? With Reagan? Fuck! It had been so good! He tried to swallow, shook his head. She reached for him and he took a step back. Even as he did so, he knew how rude and hurtful that was, after just having sex with her. Hell, not just sex, but some kind of powerfully moving, intense coming together. She hesitated, her eyes flickering, but then she followed him with a determined set to her mouth. “Gabe.” She took hold of his wrists and lowered them to his sides, stopped him from moving back. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” She didn’t even know what was wrong, but her words calmed him. Her low, even tone, the way she didn’t back off from what he knew was probably a fierce dark expression on his face, reassured him. He closed his eyes. “I’m okay,” he muttered. She stepped even closer, still holding his wrists, and pressed her body against his. She kissed his jaw, then rubbed her face gently against his. “Come back to bed.” “I have to get rid of the condom.” “Oh. Yeah. Okay.” She released him and he watched her return to the bed and sit on the side of it. Her eyes were big shadows in the pale oval of her face but she held his gaze steadily as she laid her palms on her bare knees. He headed for the small bathroom in one corner of the room. The glassed-in shower stall and whirlpool tub were a part of the bedroom itself, the bathroom holding only a long marble vanity with double sinks and a toilet. He tossed the condom, then washed up, splashing water on his face. He didn’t want to look at his image in the mirror that covered the entire bathroom wall. But he did. He
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closed his eyes again, then forced them open, forced air into his tight lungs. What. The. Fuck?
***** Reagan sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasping her knees to keep them from trembling. She was off balance, nervous and a bit stunned. Stunned by pretty much everything that had just happened. Gabe being all soft and teasing and oh hell, sexy, instead of all serious and surly. Though honestly, even surly he’d been sexy as hell. Then three incredible body-wrenching, soul-deep orgasms. But even more than that, she was astonished by the generosity and caring Gabe had shown in giving those to her, while delaying his own gratification. And then…him freaking out a little after. What was that about? My god, he was a complicated man! She was so completely, totally tied up in knots about him. The chemistry and attraction that had smoked up hot and thick between them from the moment they met was one thing. But his enigmatic personality, one moment grim and snarly, the next soft and laughing, the next hot as hell and turning her on like she’d never been in her life— wow. And then he was having some kind of…what? She didn’t know what to think, or how to feel. She did know that she’d had to step up to another challenge when he’d rolled off the bed and looked like he was ready to bolt out of the room. And then when he’d practically pushed her away—hell, the easy thing to do, and her first impulse, would have been to get dressed and get the hell out of there. But she’d made herself dig deep, made herself think that there might be more to it than something personal against her, which of course was the first thought that came to mind. Was he sorry he’d slept with her? Had she pissed him off? Done something wrong? But for some reason she wanted to go beyond that, beyond thinking it was her, beyond thinking she’d done something wrong, as she would have in the past. Now she had the confidence to think this wasn’t about her and so she’d stepped up to him and tried to comfort him, whatever it was that had caused his puzzling reaction. The bathroom door opened and light spilled briefly into the room before he flicked the light off and walked back toward her. He was incredibly beautiful, big, strong, his body perfect-male shaped, wide at the shoulders, narrow at the hips. His face was in shadow as he approached her and she watched, made herself sit still despite all her confusion and misgivings. “I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in front of her. She had to force herself not to stare at his groin, which was where she wanted to look. Even unaroused, he was impressive, his cock resting on his testicles, still thick and beautiful. She tilted her head back and met his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “But you could tell me what happened.”
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His mouth tightened just slightly, his face drawn into austere lines. “It’s nothing.” “Oh Gabe.” She reached for his hand, so big, calloused on the palms, rough on the fingertips, so masculine and strong. She pulled him forward and he sat beside her. “Just talk to me. Tell me what you were feeling. You know…” She hesitated. “What?” “I could take it personally. I could think that you had big regrets about sleeping with me.” “Christ no!” His shock reassured her, gave her confidence to push forward. “But you can see why I might think that.” She still held his hand, in both hers, rubbing her thumbs over the back of it. He sighed. “So for that reason alone, I deserve to know it wasn’t me,” she continued. “Right?” “Oh Reagan.” He sighed. “There are thing about me…you don’t want to know.” “Oh.” She considered that. Truthfully, she didn’t need anyone else’s crap dumped on her. She had enough of her own. And yet…she’d found an amazing way of dealing with her own problems had been by helping others. And also…she found she wanted to know. And wanted to make things better for him. Was this one more challenge in her journey? “So did I just sleep with a psycho? Or is it your midlife crisis again?” He choked on a laugh and her insides warmed that she’d made him do that. “I’m not a psycho, but I am a bit fucked up.” She sighed. “Jeez, Gabe, aren’t we all?”
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Chapter Ten He slid a glance her way, and his mouth twitched. “You have no idea, Reagan.” “So tell me. Sometimes it helps to talk about stuff.” Now he did smile, a slow, sexy curve of his lips. “So you say. Hey, you’re cold. Let’s get under the covers.” She was only too happy to slide between silky sheets, followed by his big warm body. The cloud of the duvet settled over them, and he pulled her into his arms. She twined her legs through his and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I don’t regret having sex with you,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Don’t ever think that.” “Okay. So tell me all your problems.” “I don’t want to tell you my problems.” “Gabe.” He sighed. “A while back a…relationship I was in ended.” “Oh.” Her body tightened. Maybe she didn’t want to hear about this after all. She looked at him. “Was it serious?” “Actually, no.” He almost looked surprised at the admission. “I cared about her, but it wasn’t as serious as I thought at the time.” “What happened?” “She fell for someone else.” “Oh. Ouch.” “Yeah.” He moved one big shoulder and she settled back down onto it. “I’m happy for her, though, really. She found a great guy. It just kind of…wasn’t what I’d expected. Maybe bruised my ego a bit. On top of that, there are problems at work. Business is crappy, I’m getting pressure to lay off staff, like I said. And…my mother’s probably not going to live much longer.” “Oh no.” Her insides squeezed. “Yeah. She has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t even know me any more. But she’s well looked after.” “That’s a lot,” she admitted quietly. They were both silent for a moment. He still hadn’t really explained what had happened, but she was going to let it slide, seeing as how he’d shared his other problems with her. She was pretty sure jumping out of bed had nothing to do with problems at work, and she hoped like hell it had nothing to do with his mother, or things were worse than she thought. She almost
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laughed at that, and then felt a strange feeling of pride sweep over her, that she could keep a sense of humor in this kind of situation. Ah well. What else could you do? She just found herself really, really hoping it had nothing to do with that woman who’d dumped him for someone else. “What’s going on at work?” she murmured, to keep him talking. “Lack of work, to put it bluntly.” “Ah.” “Economy tanked. People aren’t building as much. You know.” “I know. I tried to launch a new career in the middle of that. I’m lucky I found a job.” “After your divorce.” “Yeah.” “What happened, Reagan?” “Oh, now that is a very long and sad story that I don’t need to dump on you.” “Hey. I shared my problems.” She lifted her head and gave him a long, level look. “Really, Gabe?” After a short, pregnant pause, he said, “Wow. You’re tough.” She giggled. “Tough! Me! That’s a joke.” “Seriously.” He stroked her hair back, and caressed her cheek. “Maybe strong is a better word.” Her insides warmed and softened and she huffed out another little laugh. “Thanks. That means a lot actually. Because I’ve been working on that.” “See, that’s what I want to hear about.” “Fine.” She sighed. They were supposed to be talking about him. But she could show him how to do it. Open an artery and bleed all over the place. “I got married to a man my parents thought was suitable. My parents…not that I blame them, but I was a little…spoiled growing up. I was the only child after my older sister died.” “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “What happened?” Reagan paused. “She was abducted. Just one day walking home from school.” “Jesus.” His eyes asked the question and she nodded. “They found her body a few days later. They caught the psycho guy who did it and he didn’t even know her. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t remember a whole lot about it. I was only four at the time. My parents tried to shelter me from a lot of it, I think, but of course it was devastating for everyone. But after that, they became somewhat…overprotective of me.” She sighed. That was an understatement. “They still are.” “Ah.”
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“I knew enough about what was going on that I knew I had to make them happy, any way I could. Because I was the only one left. So I let them do everything for me, my whole life, including picking my friends and scheduling my social life. They hated it that I wanted to go away to college. They hated it that I wanted to be an architect and actually work for a living.” “But you did it.” “For a couple of years, that’s all. Then they found a good husband for me, someone they thought would look after me, and I got married. Marshall didn’t want me to work, and he had tons of money—hence my parents thinking he was suitable.” She gave a soft snort. “So I did charity work and looked after our home and hosted parties and all that crap.” He chuckled, and stroked his hand down her back. “But it turned out Marshall wasn’t really that suitable.” A touch of bitterness edged her voice. “I had no idea what was really going on. Marshall had a gambling addiction.” She waited for the pain and the hot shame that usually burned her whenever she thought about this. But strangely it didn’t come. “He got himself into debt. Like, major debt. And he had a lot of money, so you can imagine how out of control his gambling was. Then I started getting phone calls from bill collectors. I didn’t pay the bills, so I didn’t have a clue. I’d ask him about it and he’d blow me off.” She sighed. “Maybe I didn’t want to know what was really happening, and for a long time I lived in blissful ignorance. Then…” She stopped. This was the part she hadn’t told anyone about. Ever. Not even Jelana. But somehow she knew the words were going to come out of her. “Marshall wanted to make a…video.” She paused, and he lifted her chin and looked at her inquiringly. “Yeah. A sex tape. Him and me. With a little digital recorder we had.” She closed her eyes. “I went along with it because…I went along with everything he wanted.” She swallowed, now a little shame creeping back. “To be honest, I thought it was kind of fun. Kinky, but fun. I trusted him.” “Oh no.” His softly spoken words brushed over her senses, calming her a little. “Yeah. I didn’t know he put it on the Internet and made money from it. Apparently quite good money.” “Fuck Reagan. That’s…he should be shot.” “You’d have to get in line. With the guys he owed money to.” She met his eyes. “He’s in jail now. He embezzled money from his business to cover his debts too.” “What a loser.” She rested her chin on her hands on his chest. “Yep. That he was. And my parents thought he was ‘suitable’.” She rolled her eyes. “My whole life was destroyed. I was humiliated. I had nothing—we had to sell our house, everything, to pay off debts. There was nothing left. I moved home with my parents for a while and I love my mom and dad, I really do, but I just couldn’t do that any more. I had to leave. After what happened, they were still trying to protect me and look after me. Probably they felt guilty too, since they pushed me into marrying Marshall. But for once in my life I had to 89
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stand on my own two feet and figure out how to look after myself. So I found a job here and moved here and that’s what I’m doing now. Looking after myself.” He was silent for a long moment, his hand rubbing up and down her back in a soothing but sexy rhythm that started a tingle down low inside her again. “See. I was right.” “About what?” “About you. Being strong.” “Thank you, Gabe.” “That’s important to you, isn’t it?” “Right now…it’s the most important thing.” He nodded and the heat from his hands spread through her body, that fluttering deep inside intensifying into a familiar ache of desire. She wanted to ask him more questions about his mother, about his business, about the woman who’d hurt him, but his hands on her skin were sending warm tingles over every nerve ending. He tugged her higher against his body and tipped her chin up so he could kiss her. His mouth slid over hers in a long, drugging kiss. “I think you’re very strong Reagan.” “Thank you.” Then he drew back again. “But there’s something you should know about me.” “Okay.” “I like to dominate women. In bed.” She snorted. “No shit. I got that, big guy.” When he didn’t answer right away, she lifted her head to look at him. He stared back at her, his mouth open. “I don’t know if you understand,” he said carefully. “I mean I like to dominate. I’m into stuff like bondage. Floggers and canes.” “Oh.” Her heart missed a beat, then sped up. “Really.” “Yes. I like to be in control.” “And once again, I say…duh.” A smile tugged at his mouth and she touched his bottom lip with her fingertips. “Doesn’t that scare you?” “Um…no.” She thought about it. “Is that why you spanked me?” “I spanked you because you were asking for it.” He paused. “I’m not a sadist. I don’t hurt women just for fun. I only give them what they need.” “I see.” Yeah, she saw, all right. Her instincts about him had been right. He was the last guy she should be involved with, if the last thing she wanted was to be trapped in another controlling relationship.
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Chapter Eleven Tara and Joe sat on the patio at Antonio’s Wednesday, looking at menus. And Tara kept looking at her watch. “Where are they?” she asked. “It’s not like Reagan to be late.” “It’s not even noon yet,” Joe said. “Relax.” “I have a lot of work to do. I squeezed in this lunch so Reagan and Gabe could talk to us, but god, I don’t have time for this.” “Relax.” Joe’s voice held a steely edge and she looked up at him and caught his eye. He arched one eyebrow, his mouth stern. She went soft inside. Hiding her smile, she bent her head back to her menu. “Hey, Tara. And Joe.” Tara looked up to see Reagan there, pulling out one of the four chairs at the small table. “Hi, Reagan.” They all greeted each other and Reagan ordered a cup of coffee from the server who immediately approached. “Gabe’s not here?” she asked. Tara looked at her more closely. The question was casual but the way Reagan’s eyes dropped when she asked it alerted Tara’s senses. “Not yet,” she said. “Oh wait, there he is. I’m glad you’re both so punctual.” Gabe approached the table, having spotted them from the entrance. Tara watched him. Were he and Reagan getting along okay? There’d been a lot of tension between them that first day and she’d had concerns about their ability to work together on this project. Maybe having this meeting was a good idea, to get a sense of how things were going before the end of the two weeks they’d set. Gabe pulled out the fourth chair and sat and Tara couldn’t help but admire both him and Joe, both so big and strong and gorgeous, both tanned and dark-haired though Joe was leaner where Gabe was heavily muscled, and Joe’s eyes were dark while Gabe’s were that mesmerizing blue. Yeah, she could totally see Gabe at the club with someone tied up and at his mercy. She flicked her glance over to Joe, and remembering herself being tied up and at Joe’s mercy gave her a brief hot flash. She swallowed and turned her attention back to Gabe and Reagan. They greeted each other and the atmosphere at the table changed as if a storm had moved in. There was a subtle difference in the tension that still snapped between them. A heat. An awareness. Hmmm. They all made small talk as they all looked over the menu then ordered their lunches. Once that was done, Reagan took control of the conversation. After she 91
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updated them on what they’d been working on, she said, “We wanted to meet so we could talk a little more about your vision for the tasting room. We’ve done a lot of work on technical things but I wanted a clear sense of what you’re thinking.” Tara nodded and looked at Gabe, surprised that he was letting Reagan take the lead after their little battles in that first meeting. Whoa. Gabe was looking at Reagan, his eyes hot and predatory. If Tara was reading things right, he wanted to eat Reagan up, right then and there. And when Reagan’s eyes shifted toward Gabe and her mouth softened, Tara knew Reagan felt the same way about him. She looked at Joe and lifted an eyebrow. Was he reading the subtle cues the same way? He was so good at that. He too, was watching Reagan and Joe and when he looked back at Tara and their eyes met, she knew he saw it too. Tara tried to repress her grin and licked her lips. “Great,” she said, after an awkwardly long pause. Oops. She smiled. “What do you want to know?” Reagan and Tara did most of the talking, but Tara could see Gabe was listening intently and she was completely distracted by the way he watched Reagan when she talked, his eyes warming, smiling a little. Different than the way he’d been the first day they’d met, when she’d thought he was such a jerk. This was fascinating. Questions about Reagan poured into Tara’s head. Although Tara was new to Le Château and she and Joe didn’t actually go there that often, she knew Gabe’s reputation there as an experienced Dom and mentor. Was Reagan into that scene? If she was, it would surprise Tara, because Reagan seemed so innocent and gentle. And yet…people hid things all the time. Including herself. She smiled. “What?” Reagan asked with a little crease between her eyebrows. “Oh. Nothing.” Pay attention, Tara! Their lunch arrived and they continued their conversation. Joe had to put his two cents in about the design of the tasting room, as usual practical and logical, keeping her from getting carried away, but she was getting used to that now, instead of resenting it like she had when he’d first arrived at Santa Ynez Olives. “Joe and I are planning a party out at our ranch next weekend,” she told Reagan. “It’s a sort of housewarming party, now we’ve mostly finished redecorating the house. You should come. You too Gabe.” She nodded at him. “I plan to do some olive oil tasting to show some of our friends what it’s all about. I think if you experience it, it will help you know what we want.” “That’s a good idea,” Reagan said. She slid a glance over to Gabe with a secret little smile. “I know Gabe had some questions about tasting olive oil.” Their eyes met and Tara could practically feel the electric shock of it. She resisted the urge to fan her face and sat back in her chair, smiling too.
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“I’d never heard of it,” he admitted, dragging his eyes off Reagan to look at Tara. “I may have been a little skeptical.” Reagan made a tiny little snort that had Gabe’s eyes swiveling right back to her. With one lifted eyebrow he had Reagan squirming a little in her seat. Oh wow. They didn’t just want to jump each other—they already had. Tara was sure of it. She couldn’t repress her grin at the delight that rose up inside her. But satisfaction mixed with a little niggle of worry, because Gabe was so very dominant, a Master Dom at the club. She knew the kinds of things he enjoyed, the kinds of things he enjoyed doing to women. Did Reagan have any idea about that? “Good,” she said. “You know where the ranch is. Not this weekend, but next weekend, Saturday night, seven o’clock. Most guests are staying over, because we don’t want people driving back through the mountains in the dark, also so they can have a few glasses of wine or whatever.” “Oh. Staying over.” Reagan blinked. “I don’t know…” “Our house is big,” Tara assured her. “We have lots of bedrooms. Not every room is fully furnished yet, but we’re throwing up a few inflatable beds. It won’t be luxurious, but it’ll work.” “Oh. Okay. That sounds fun.” “We’ll talk before then,” Tara told Reagan. In fact, she’d be on the phone to Reagan as soon as she got back to the office to find out the details of what was going on. Not as business colleagues, but as the friends they’d recently become. When they’d finished lunch, she watched Gabe escort Reagan through the tables on the patio, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, and she recognized the protective gesture. She immediately rounded on Joe. “Did you see that?” He grinned. “Yeah. I guess they’re getting along okay.” “Holy shit! I thought they were going to combust every time they looked at each other! I can’t wait to talk to Reagan and find out more.” Joe gave her a look, eyebrows lowered a little. “Girl talk, huh?” “Oh yeah! You know, he didn’t seem so bad today. It kind of made my heart do a little pitter-patter, the way he looked at her.” “Pitter-patter?” The eyebrow went back up. She gave him a little swat on the shoulder, then leaned in to kiss him. “It made me hot. Maybe we could take a long lunch…” “You said you were busy.” He cupped her jaw and amusement gleamed in his dark eyes. “Yeah, well…I know how to prioritize.” “Mmm.” His thumb rubbed over her bottom lip. “And I’m a priority?” “Yes. Yes you are.”
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“Good.”
***** Reagan and Gabe strolled back to Reagan’s office together. “That went well,” she said. “We have one more meeting scheduled for Friday and I think we’ll be able to put together our preliminary design proposal for them.” “Within the two weeks they gave us.” “Yes.” They stopped on the sidewalk outside Reagan’s office building. She sank her teeth briefly into her bottom lip as she looked up at him. Their lunch meeting had gone smoothly other than the fact that she’d had a hard time focusing on business with him sitting beside her, looking at her with hot, intent eyes. Every look made her remember the things they’d done together, how many orgasms he’d given her and how much she wanted to do that again. But they couldn’t do that again. He reached out and brushed aside a strand of hair that had blown across her face in the breeze. “So we meet again Friday.” “Yes.” “Let’s have dinner after.” He paused. “Unless you have another date.” She lowered her chin and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I don’t have a date.” After a short pause, Gabe said “I don’t want you to see him again.” She frowned. “See who?” “Kevin Wynne.” She tilted her head, still frowning. He had not just gone there. Who the hell did he think he was? “Okay, you just pushed a button.” Now he scowled. “What?” She laid her hand flat on his chest and leaned in. “Remember what I told you the other night? That I’m learning how to look after myself?” “Yeah.” “I don’t want anyone telling me what to do. I’m learning to make decisions on my own. And that includes who I go out with. You have no right to even try to tell me who I can date.” He blinked at her, his blue eyes bright. “I wasn’t trying to…” He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, looking away from her. “I was jealous, okay?” “Oh Gabe.” She’d been about to tell him to go to hell, that she could not have anything to do with him other than on a professional level, but her insides, which had knotted up, relaxed and she let out a slow breath. She slid her hand up and touched his cheek. They looked at each other, and she felt drawn toward him, wanting to kiss him, unsure if she should…then he bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. 94
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“I can’t do this, Gabe.” “Why not?” He frowned. “Because of what I just told you. I’m trying to be independent and strong. That does not include being told who I can see or…or being tied up and at someone’s mercy.” He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a wicked smile that melted her panties. “You might like it.” He touched her cheek with almost reverent gentleness and at that moment she could almost believe that. Well, the truth was she could easily believe it, in fact, had even fantasized about that. But being a doormat to a dominant man was so not where she wanted to go with her life. She’d worked so hard for what she’d accomplished, for how far she’d come. “Friday.” And he turned and walked away down the sidewalk to the lot where he’d parked his Jeep. She touched her lips, unable to stop the smile that tugged at them, and turned to enter her office. “Hey, Sunshine.” She turned to see Ross beside her, wearing a smirk on his face. Ick. “Ross. I told you not to call me that.” He ignored her. “Hot lunch date, babe? Isn’t that Gabe Pejovic?” Sunshine? Babe? Her insides tightened with annoyance. “Yes, that’s Gabe Pejovic. And it wasn’t a lunch date, it was a business meeting.” “Oh yeah. Looked like business to me.” Damn. What was she supposed to say? Gabe had kissed her. Ross had apparently seen. Shit. Since she didn’t know what to say about that, she said, “Please don’t call me Sunshine. Or babe.” And turned her back on him to enter the building. She headed straight to her office, hoping Ross wasn’t following her. And he didn’t. She sank into her chair. How many people was he going to tell what he’d just seen? Crap. Her phone rang and she glanced at the call display. Santa Ynez Olives. Huh. Tara? Already? She picked up. “Okay, what’s going on with you and Gabe?” Tara demanded. Reagan closed her eyes. Had they seen the kiss on the sidewalk too? “What do you mean?” “I mean, you two were practically on fire every time you looked at each other.” “Oh. Well.” “I thought you were going out with Kevin Wynne.” Reagan almost laughed, remembering Gabe’s admission of jealousy. She had no idea what was happening between her and Gabe, and if Kevin Wynne asked her out again, she might go. Maybe. Why not? “Kevin and I had dinner last weekend. It was nice.” “So…you and Gabe…?” 95
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Reagan heard the question. “Hold on.” Still holding the phone, she stretched the cord out as she got up and closed her office door. “Okay. We’ve met a few times now. After our meeting on Monday we went out for a drink. We ended up going back to his place so he could show me his house.” Tara snorted and Reagan smiled. “And that’s about it.” “Uh-huh. Okay. You like him?” Reagan bit her lip. “I’m not sure the word ‘like’ really describes my feelings for him.” Tara’s voice softened. “What word would, then?” “I don’t know. How about…confused. He’s…complicated.” “Did you sleep with him?” “Tara!” Tara laughed. “Sorry. I know it’s none of my business. It was just really obvious that you two are attracted to each other.” “Yes, we slept together.” “Oooh. And…how was it?” “Unbelievable. Oh my god, Tara. It was amazing.” Tara sighed with satisfaction. “I knew it. I could just tell. Wow, Reagan. Er…” “What?” After a short pause, Tara said, “Nothing. So. That party next weekend…should I plan one room or two for you and Gabe?” “Oh god. Two! We’re not…we can’t…oh god.” She leaned her forehead onto her hand. Tara laughed. “Two rooms. Hey, Tori will be there too, with her boyfriend. And my sister and her boyfriend are coming, and a few other people. It’s going to be fun.” Reagan smiled. “It sounds fun.” It felt nice to be included in her party plans, again, a gradual feeling of fitting in and making friends warming her. “I’m looking forward to it.” “I’d say you and Tori and I should do lunch one day, but I’m going crazy right now. But we’ll see each other next weekend and you can tell us all about you and Gabe. I know Tori will want to hear all about this too.” “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t think I’m going to see him again. I mean, see him…other than work. You know.” Tara laughed again. “Uh huh.” Reagan rolled her eyes a little, but she was smiling. Having girlfriends, someone to talk to about Gabe, was nice. “But I’ll see you before then because you and Joe and Gabe and I are meeting next week so we can present our concept design to you.” “I can’t wait for that! I’m so excited about this.” “Me too, actually. It’s a really unique project.” 96
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***** The call from the nursing home came later that afternoon, on Gabe’s cell phone while he was at a job site. His mother’s body systems were shutting down. It could be a matter of days, or it could be hours. He’d known this was near, from the last few weekly visits, where she’d been generally confined to bed and her care mainly palliative. On his way to her, he stopped at home to pick up Lucy. It might be crazy, but for some reason he believed Lucy brought his mom comfort and he wanted the little dog to be there. He felt a feeling of pressure building up inside him as he drove to the home, but he had to stay in control so his mother’s last hours were in an atmosphere of calm. At her bedside, he swallowed hard at the sight of her, so pale, so frail. Lucy, as if she knew, lay down on the bed at her side, pressed against his mom. He held Majka’s hand and stroked it, lifted her other hand and rested it on Lucy’s fluffy back. And he talked to her. The nurse entered the room silently on soft-soled shoes. “Is there anything else she needs?” he asked her. She shook her head, smiling a little at the dog on the bed. “We’ve given her more pain meds. That’s all we can do. And what you’re doing right now.” His eyes burned and his throat ached, but he talked anyway. This time he did tell his mother about Reagan. For some reason, knowing he might never get another chance, it became important to him that she know about Reagan, even though he didn’t know what part Reagan played in his life. But he told his mom that too, his voice coming out thick and strangled at times. He forced himself to calm down, to not sound like he was ready to burst into tears, because that wasn’t going to be helpful to his mom at all. He stayed there into the evening. He’d taken a couple of phone calls in the afternoon, had let Tracy know where he was and what was going on. He thought about calling Reagan. But he didn’t. They hardly knew each other, after all. Shortly after midnight that night, Majka died. Ironically, the long journey his mom had been on had given him a lot of time to prepare for the end of her life, had given him a lot of time to think about the meaning of it all. About all that they had both survived. How loving someone could result in so much hurt. He thought about Tori, about how he’d come to care for her and ended up rejected. Was it worth it? Was loving someone the worst kind of submission? And weakness? As he sat there still holding Majka’s hand, head bowed, he thought about that expression about how what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. He straightened, squaring his shoulders. It took strength and self-control to keep from breaking down and he prided himself on those qualities. He wasn’t going to lose it now. He would
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honor Majka’s memory by being strong. He kissed her lifeless hand and then rose to talk to the staff at the home about further arrangements.
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Chapter Twelve Their meeting Friday was at Gabe’s office and Reagan as usual arrived promptly at four o’clock. Her insides fluttered and her skin tingled in anticipation of seeing Gabe, which she knew was quite silly, because this was a business meeting. She’d changed her mind about a hundred times over the course of the day about whether she would actually go out for dinner with him. Even so, she’d actually dressed with that in mind. Her pencil-thin white skirt and silky halter-necked blouse looked quite demure and office-appropriate with her white suit jacket on, but left shoulders and arms bare when she removed the jacket. The receptionist remembered her and called Gabe right away. His offices hummed with activity, telephones ringing, people chatting, computer keyboards clicking, despite it being late on a Friday afternoon. At Pacific Design, Friday afternoons were pretty laid back, in fact, the office was often all but deserted. When Gabe appeared in the doorway she turned to him with a smile, but her smile faded. Lord, he looked so tired. She moved toward him on her high heels, keeping a businesslike expression on her face. He greeted her with an impassive face and led the way to his office. Worry filled her as she climbed the stairs behind him and followed him into his office. When he closed the door behind him, she turned to face him. “Gabe. Are you okay?” He gave her a blank look. “Of course I’m okay.” “You look…tired.” “Oh. Yeah, I am a little tired. Have a seat.” He waved at the table and she sat, setting her laptop on the table, a little set back by the cool greeting instead of the kiss she’d expected. Hoped for. Silly girl. “More work problems?” He grimaced and rubbed his face. “Always. But actually…my mom passed away a couple of days ago.” She stared at him, mouth open, her belly tightening. “Oh no!” He gave a short nod. “Oh Gabe! I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t stop herself, she rose out of her chair and moved toward him. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. He stood there stiff and unmoving. His hands lightly touched her hips, then set her away from him. Confused, she blinked and pushed her hair back. “Why are you here, for heaven’s sake?”
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He frowned a little, moved to another chair at the table and sat down. “Where else would I be?” She licked her lips, uncertainly sliding down her spine. “With your family? Don’t you have arrangements to make…the funeral…” Her words trailed off. She took two steps backward, glanced down for the chair and sank onto it, still staring at him. “I don’t have any other family.” “Oh.” “The funeral arrangements are made. She didn’t want much. I’m just having a very short service at the cemetery tomorrow morning.” “I…see.” “So. Let’s get this finished up. Our meeting with Tara and Joe is Wednesday next week, right?” “R-right.” But she didn’t move. How could he be focused on business at a time like this? Her heart ached and questions backed up in her brain. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk…about your mom?” He frowned a little. “No. Why would I?” “Er…sometimes it helps to talk.” “Helps what?” She gazed back at him helplessly. “Gabe…” “I’m fine, Reagan. She was sick for a long time. I knew this was coming, so it’s not as if it was a shock or anything.” Her chest squeezed even more painfully and her throat tightened. She nodded, bending her head and focusing on unzipping her case and pulling out her laptop. She opened the programs she needed and they began to review the work she’d done. Gabe asked questions, made some suggestions, which she carefully considered, disagreeing with some but for the most part accepting his input as worthwhile, but the back of her brain was buzzing with questions and worry. A little over an hour later, they considered themselves to be ready. “I think Tara and Joe will be really pleased with this,” she said, zipping up her computer case. “Yeah. I think so too.” He met her eyes. “You did a good job, Reagan.” “Thank you.” His words gave her a soft rush of heat inside her. “You too. Surprisingly, we seem to work well together.” He gave a faint smile. “Surprisingly,” he agreed. He glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner date.” “Oh.” Disappointment flooded her even though she’d been completely undecided all day if she was actually going to go out with him. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not really good company right now,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
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Her insides began to burn. “That doesn’t matter, Gabe. Your mother just died. I understand that.” “I know, you’re very understanding. But…we shouldn’t have…you know, we’re colleagues and having a personal relationship probably wasn’t a very good idea.” The burning inside her became painful and heat slid over her skin, all the way up into her face. He was brushing her off. Never mind that she’d been telling herself for the last five days that’s exactly what she should do. She rose to her feet on legs that felt just a bit unsteady. A small battle raged inside her. She had enough pride that she didn’t want to beg him to have dinner with her. On top of that, she was still pretty sure getting involved with a man like him was a bad idea. But…she was getting a vibe from him that almost hurt, as if she could feel what he was feeling. And yet…he wasn’t showing it on the outside. He seemed focused, businesslike, yeah a little tired, but overall pretty…emotionless. That just wasn’t normal. His mother had just died. Did he not care? It would be easier to just walk out of there. But…this wasn’t about her pride and it wasn’t even about them having a date. It was about helping him, even though he clearly didn’t want to admit he needed help. She studied him, her fingers fiddling with the zipper of her case. “Is this what you’re always like?” she asked him, digging deep for courage. “Unfeeling? Tough?” He held her gaze, his expression not changing. “Yes.” “Bullshit.” He blinked but his mouth remained firm. “You weren’t tough and unfeeling in bed with me the other night.” She moved closer to him. “That was sex.” She flinched and paused. She regrouped. “I know you have feelings, Gabe. You help the people who work for you get an education. A man who didn’t give a shit wouldn’t do that. You fight for your employees so they won’t get laid off. You obviously love your dog. I’m sure you loved your mother, too. You have to be hurting right now.” He said nothing, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course I loved my mother.” Fear was like an icy lump in her stomach as she stood in front of him and framed his face with her hands. “If you don’t feel like going out for dinner, come back to my place. I can make us something to eat. You can just…kick back for a little while.” Motionless, he gazed back at her, his eyes shuttered, his mouth a straight line. She longed to kiss it into softness, to ease the pain she knew he had to be feeling. “I’m not entirely sure we should be seeing each other, either. But…after…you could have called me, Gabe.” His eyes flickered. 101
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The fear inside her intensified, making her tremble, making it hard to swallow. But she pressed on. “Is this always what you’re like?” she asked again. “Is this what you want to be?” “It’s what I have to be.” She lowered her eyelashes, then looked back up at him. “Why do you say that?” “Reagan. Don’t do this.” “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But come home with me. I’ll make something to eat. You can have a beer and sit on my couch and exude waves of wordless masculine pain.” The corners of his mouth twitched and her insides thawed just a bit. She went up on tip toe and kissed one corner of that beautiful mouth. “Okay?” His hands settled on her waist. For a moment she thought he was going to push her away again, but his fingers tightened on her and he said, “Okay.” She gave him her address because he had a few more things to finish up at the office, then drove home. She had no idea if he was really going to show up. Her insides were a mass of trembling, knotted nerves. She kicked her shoes off in her bedroom and looked around, a little lost. She felt disoriented. Distracted. She should change. But she didn’t know what to put on. She turned in a half circle. Maybe she should check what she had for food before she changed. Maybe she had nothing to make them for dinner. In her small kitchen, she opened the refrigerator. She had a package of chicken breasts. Surely she could do something with that. Her eyes fell on the container of pesto she’d made last weekend with the basil Jelana had given her. She could broil the chicken, top it with a little pesto. Maybe cook some pasta and toss it with the pesto too, and add some slices of fresh tomatoes…that would work. The security buzzer sounded and she jumped over to press the intercom button to talk. “Hello.” “It’s me.” Gabe’s dark and delicious voice was distinctive even over the scratchy sound system. He’d come. Her heart picked up speed. She buzzed him in, and hovered near her apartment door until he arrived. He’d left his suit jacket somewhere, probably in his Jeep, his shirt sleeves rolled up on his big forearms, shirt tucked into black dress pants with an expensive-looking leather belt. His eyes dropped to her bare feet as she stepped aside to let him in, but he said nothing. Then he looked around as he walked into her living room. “This is nice.” She laughed and shut the door. “Please. Compared to your oceanside mansion?” The building was an older, Spanish-style building, with lots of nice character, but still… He turned and shook his head at her. “It’s nice.” “Thank you.” She padded toward him. “Some day I’d love to have my own home. I’d love to design my own home. But that’s not going to happen for a while.”
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His face softened momentarily. “Real estate’s expensive here.” “Oh yeah. What would you like to drink? I have beer, wine and Kahlua.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ll pass on the Kahlua. A beer is good.” He followed her to the small kitchen separated from the living room by a counter. She grabbed a beer from the fridge for him, opened it and handed it to him. “A glass?” He shook his head. “I’m going to change,” she said, peeling her suit jacket off. As his eyes moved over her bare shoulders and arms, pleasure curled inside her and her nipples tightened. “Make yourself comfortable in the living room. I’m sorry I don’t have an ocean view.” “Reagan…” He stopped. “Yes?” She tipped her head. “Nothing. I mean, thank you. For inviting me here.” She smiled. “Be right back.” She took her time changing, because she needed a few minutes now that he was there to collect herself, to figure out how she wanted to play this. She was surprised he’d actually agreed to come and just about as surprised that he’d showed up. Her courage in standing up to him earlier had paid off, she just hoped it didn’t desert her now. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, hell, he didn’t even want to admit to them, apparently. How was she supposed to deal with that? Though she hadn’t known him long, she was getting a sense of who he was. He made it incredibly difficult, yet he’d shared enough with her that she knew what was important to him—control probably being at the top of that list. Which was why he was holding everything in. She wished she knew more about him, knew what was behind it all, why he was like that. Could he ever let go of control and let someone else take the lead? Maybe the way to show him was with sex—because she had a feeling pushing him to talk about things wasn’t going to go well. She debated over what to wear. If she was going to seduce him perhaps she should wear something a little sexier than the knee-length shorts and a tank top she’d pulled out. But no. Being obvious about it was not the way to go. Dressed in the shorts and top, she returned to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Gabe sat on her couch, the remote control for her television in hand, channel surfing. She smiled. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “That’s okay.” He looked her over and his eyes heated. Huh. Never mind sexy lingerie or revealing clothes. “I should have gone home to change first.” “I’m glad you came.” He nodded.
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“Tell me about your mother.” He gave her a sharp look. She shook her head. “Just tell me anything you want to about her. What her favorite color was. How old she was. Did she like to knit or was she into bowling?” He laughed, a dry, almost painful sounding laugh, and leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closed. “Oh, Reagan.” She waited, sipping her wine, a nice crisp Pinot Grigio. “Her favorite color was purple. Any shade of purple. She loved lavender. One time I took her to a lavender farm in the valley. She loved it. I bought her soap and sachets and lavender tea.” Reagan’s throat closed up and her chest squeezed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Gabe had his emotions under control, but she wasn’t quite so disciplined. She sipped wine again, swallowing with difficulty. “She was only seventy-one. Not that old. We found out she had Alzheimer’s about four years ago.” He paused, then switched tracks. “She was a teacher. Back in Bosnia. She didn’t knit or bowl, but she loved to read and loved to learn. I think…losing her mind like that was the cruelest thing that could have happened to her. And the worst thing was, for a while all she remembered was…the most awful things that happened.” Reagan could hardly draw breath into her lungs, but she said nothing, just waited. Just let him say whatever he wanted to. “She didn’t know who I was. But she remembered…” He hesitated. “She loved it when Lucy visited. I’ve only had Lucy a few months. I wish I’d gotten a dog sooner, when I saw how she reacted. We had a dog. When I was a kid.” A million questions bombarded her about his past but she pushed them away, kept them from springing to her lips. “She liked flowers. And music.” He fell silent and she said nothing too, letting him think and process things. “We were apart for a long time. After the war. I…thought she was dead, actually. After I’d been living here for a while and got my shit together, I decided to check into what had happened. It took a long time, but I found her. I brought her here. She loved it here. She made a few friends. Then she started to get sick.” She wanted to know more, so much more, but sensed that pushing or asking questions would only make him close up. So she did the only thing she could—she shifted closer to him on the couch. He almost had no choice, or maybe he did, but he lifted his arm and slid it around her. He didn’t so much pull her in as she snuggled in, but nonetheless he tightened his arm around her and she shifted, bringing her knees up on the cushions. She inhaled his fresh, woodsy-citrus scent, rubbed her face on his shoulder. She listened to him talk, letting him say whatever he wanted, not pushing when he stopped and fell silent. “I’ll make us dinner,” she said, a long while later. She shifted away from the warmth of his body. While they’d been sitting there the sun had sunk low in the sky
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and the room had grown cool and shadowy.”Maybe you could light a fire?” She nodded toward the brick fireplace in the corner as she flicked on a lamp. They both rose, she to go into the kitchen, him to build the fire. “It’s nice to have a working fireplace in an apartment like this,” he said. “I love a fire.” She busied herself with the food. “Even in the summer.” “What can I do?” She pushed a cutting board with the tomatoes toward him and handed him a knife. “You can slice these up.” He helped her cook, then they sat and ate at her small dining table, drinking more wine. Reagan filled the silence with talk about projects at work, questions about Gabe’s other jobs. “Will you go to Tara and Joe’s party next weekend?” she asked him. He didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Yeah.” “Good. I’m sure you don’t feel like partying, but it could be fun.” “Fun.” He nodded, looked down at his plate, then back up at her. “Thanks Reagan.” She smiled at him and nodded. After they’d cleaned up, she started some quiet music on her iPod, and they sat on the couch in front of the now-low fire. Darkness had fallen outside and the room felt cozy and intimate with only one lamp on and Anna Nalick’s velvety voice rising and falling around them to the rhythm of piano and guitar chords. “I should go home,” Gabe said. “Lucy’s all alone. God knows what kind of trouble she’s gotten into. She probably needs out.” Hell. She hadn’t thought of Lucy. Well, that just meant she had to do this now. She lifted her hand and laid her palm on his scruffy cheek, turned his face toward her and kissed him.
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Chapter Thirteen Gabe hesitated, tried to resist, but couldn’t. The sweetness of her mouth was a comfort he needed, needed so badly, and he turned into Reagan’s kiss as if he were starving for it. He had no idea what she was doing to him, but he needed her, needed her touch, her taste, her gentleness and purity, needed it to chase away the blackness inside him, the bleak awfulness that had settled there since his mother’s death. He cupped her face too and their mouths clung together. He opened wider, opening her beneath him, deepening the kiss, licking into her mouth. Her hand slid to his shoulder and held on tightly. He pulled her onto his lap, needing more, all of her, closer. His mouth slid from her mouth to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck. He inhaled the fresh scent of her, sweetly fruity and floral, filled his lungs with the clean sweetness of it, wanting it to replace the ugliness inside him. She pressed against him, her soft breasts, all of her, seeking his mouth again, kissing him again. He slid his hands into her silky hair and held her head and kissed her back, over and over, until he was dizzy from it. The music picked up tempo and volume, matching the increasing intensity inside him, urging him to breathe. Just breathe. Emotion rose in him so hard and fierce and hot he had to stop the kiss. Still holding Reagan’s head, he leaned his forehead against hers. Breathe. Just breathe. But his breath was coming in short sharp bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. “Gabe, oh, Gabe,” she whispered, her hands slipping to his neck, then beneath the collar of his shirt. Then her fingers began unbuttoning it, parting it, and she wriggled against him to lay her lips against his bare chest. He tipped his chin up, closed his eyes. The music swelled around them. Breathe. Just breathe. Her hands rubbed over his chest, his nipples, and it felt good, so good. Reagan’s mouth slid lower, over his stomach, making his abs twitch. Her hands smoothed up his sides and made him shiver as she opened her mouth on his skin, then dragged her tongue slowly up the center of his chest. His lungs seized and his sensation poured over him in hot waves. She eased the tails of his shirt out from his pants, kissing his lower belly, then slid to the floor between his knees. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt. He groaned, still holding fists full of her hair. When she rubbed her cheek over his erection beneath his pants, he sucked in air. Breathe. Just breathe. The song ended on that and a brief silence filled the room as she kissed him there on the fabric of his pants, her head in his lap, her hands on his bare waist, his skin prickling all over. Then another song began, a slow and sexy snare drum beating out a soft rhythm, joined by a guitar and a male voice with a deep, strained
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quality, something about love and flying and being able to go anywhere. Agony tore through him, sharp and hot. He couldn’t do this. He tugged on Reagan’s hair, more sharply than he intended, lifting her head. “Reagan,” he growled. “Stop.” “Let me,” she whispered, looking up at him with big, shiny eyes, her long eyelashes like starbursts around them. Much as he loved a woman on her knees in front of him, he was used to being the one who put her there, the one in charge, the one who set the pace, the one who dictated what happened and when. If he wanted a woman to go down on him, he gave the order. Told her how he liked it and how fast. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t give up control to her. He closed his eyes against the plea in hers. “I want to make you feel good,” she said. “You do. You have.” He hauled her up but she resisted, pushing his hands away. Hell. He tightened his grip on her, knocked her hands away. “Gabe!” They wrestled. She was fighting him, for Chrissake, fighting him for control. It was almost enough to make him laugh, but determination surged in him, domination and control, and given how much bigger and stronger than her he was, it wasn’t hard for him to flip her onto her back and pin her beneath him on the couch. He lay on top of her, his face close to hers, both of them breathing heavily. They stared at each other. The music grew louder, for some reason adding to the emotion building in him, touching him so far deep inside, raw nerves, things he’d kept locked away for so long. The music…and Reagan. I’m flying. The song ended with a soft flow of guitar notes and again silence fell around them. “You can’t tell me you don’t want it,” she whispered and he watched her lips barely move as she said the words, watched her sexy, sweet mouth. “I felt you.” Honesty. He knew the importance of it in a relationship. He just didn’t know what was happening between them. They weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t even play partners. The music changed again, running piano notes, so beautiful. Oh fuck. He closed his eyes. Of course this was a relationship. A new, fragile and inexplicable relationship but all the same, a relationship. “I won’t deny it,” he said gruffly. “I just…” How to explain it to her? She was so sweet and pure. If she knew all the things he liked to do, she’d be running screaming from the room. “Don’t fight me,” he growled. He released her hands. She immediately lifted them to his neck again, touching him softly, her fingers brushing over the hair at the nape in small strokes. 107
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“I won’t.” She stared at him curiously. “I’m gonna fuck you.” She blinked and her lips parted. He lifted off her, found the hem of her tank top and yanked it up and over her head. Her breasts quivered above the small demi-cups of her bra as she fell back to the couch. Fuck, she was stunning. He covered her breasts with his hands and squeezed, not gentle but not rough. Soft. So soft. On his knees, he undid her shorts and drew them off too, along with a pair of pink thong panties that matched her bra, leaving her lying there nearly bare beneath him on her charcoal-gray couch― slender hips, smooth skin, tiny patch of dark gold curls. He flicked open his pants, unzipped his fly, shoved his pants down on his hips low enough to pull his dick out, dripping and swollen. Her eyes dropped there, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. He shoved her thighs wide, fisted his cock and pushed into her in one hard, fast motion. The sweet, angelic voice of the singer rose as she sang about foolish games, contrasting with the crude way he was taking Reagan, which made his throat close up, his chest constrict. But still, he pounded into her soft body, his knees spread wide. One knee slid off the edge of the couch and he braced his foot on the floor, holding Reagan’s legs up and apart. She watched him, eyes dark and steady, one hand gripping the back of the couch, holding on at each jolt. Tearing me apart. The feel of her around him, hot, slick, wet, even though he’d barely done anything to get her there, sent pleasure slamming through him. His skin buzzed, the base of his spine tingled. He grunted, growled, sliding in and out with fast hard thrusts, his fingers likely leaving bruises on her soft thighs. And still she watched him. Breaking my heart. What was happening to him? Why was his mind racing with crazy thoughts, why was he feeling like he was crumbling inside, breaking down, falling apart? He gritted his teeth. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, his chest, his shirt hanging open. She reached for him. Grabbed his shoulders and hung on, her fingernails biting into the flesh there. So…fucking…good. And then she dragged her nails down his body, over his chest, deep and feral, and the sting sent fire flashing over his nerve endings. He couldn’t stop the growl that sprang to his lips. His head went back and he went momentarily still, and then he came, came with a painful intensity in wrenching, intense spasms inside her, his head spinning with it, his vision going dark. Tearing me apart. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck me. Reagan.” He collapsed over her, his shirt damp, heart thudding wildly, muscles quivering. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been when he became aware of her soft body beneath him, her hands stroking his clammy back beneath his shirt. Had he lost
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consciousness? Jesus, that never happened. Curse words ran through his head, along with a whole shitload of guilt, confusion and regret. “Reagan.” Her name emerged from between his dry lips in a croak. “I’m here.” She continued her soft caresses over his skin. “Fuck.” “Yeah.” He heard the hint of amusement in her tone. Christ. She should be pissed at him, not amused. He was such a fucking jerk. “That wasn’t what I intended to happen,” he muttered, unable to lift his head to look at her. “Me either.” With slow, almost painful movements, he lifted himself off her. “Shit,” he groaned. “Reagan, I’m sorry. I didn’t even use a condom.” She rolled her bottom lip inward briefly, but when their eyes met, hers were clear and steady. “Are you safe, Gabe?” “Yes.” She gave a short nod. “Me too.” His breath sawed in and out like a jagged saw, fire in his chest. “I’m sorry, “he said again, for more than just forgetting about a condom. She palmed his face. “Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.” “It’s not fine. I’m a mess.” He yanked his pants up and sat heavily at the end of the couch, then shoved his hands into his hair. He looked up at the ceiling. She swung her legs to the floor and reached for her panties. “I’ll be right back,” she said. When she stood, he saw the gleam of his semen on her thighs, her curls. The fire had burned low, glowing coals in the grate. The music was now something low and primal and rhythmic, echoing the beat of his heart. He didn’t listen to music very often and now he knew why, the visceral response it had evoked in him almost shocking. And Reagan. He closed his eyes against the visceral response she evoked in him. She returned quietly, dressed in her bra and panties, and sat beside him on the couch. To his surprise she reached for one of his hands and held it. “I wish you would talk to me,” she said quietly. He let out a short sigh. “I’m not good at that.” She nodded, played with his fingers. “You remember I told you about my divorce.” He gave a jerky nod. “About how I had to leave San Francisco and start over again. How I had to learn how to look after myself.” “Yeah.”
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“I’ve never told anyone about this. But when I came here to start my new life, I made this plan. My plan was to do something hard, something challenging, every day. It didn’t have to be something big—but at first it was. A lot of big things that I’d never had to do for myself. I didn’t know how to rent an apartment. Or buy a car. That scared the crap out of me.” He smiled a little. “I didn’t know what bank to use or how to apply for a credit card. Sometimes it was little things, like…like standing up for myself at work.” “That doesn’t sound very little. That sounds huge.” She bent her head. “Or returning something to a store that I didn’t want. Or pumping my own gas.” His heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the images she painted in his mind, a sheltered, innocent woman trying so hard to be brave and strong. Making herself do things that were scary. He shifted to look at her, tipped her chin up. “I think that’s awesome, Reagan.” She gave a tiny smile. “Thank you. My point…and it’s a good one…is that if I can do all those scary things, I think you could at least talk about your feelings.” Some of his equilibrium restored, he managed a laugh. “If I had feelings, you mean.” He regretted his flippant words at the look on her face, the way her eyebrows slanted down and her eyelashes lowered. “Everyone has feelings,” she said quietly. She reached for her clothes, shook out the tank top and pulled it on over her head. “Well. You’d better get going. Lucy is probably waiting for you.” He gaped at her, his chest going empty and cold. Holy shit. She was kicking him out. “Reagan.” She tipped her head to one side as she flipped her hair out from beneath the shirt. “I’m sorry.” “You said that. Several times.” “Hell.” She stood. “So in case you’re wondering…yes, this is another one of those hard things. There’ve been a few with you.” She laughed, a tight, brittle sound. “But standing up for myself doesn’t just mean at work, it means everywhere, and I deserve better than to be used for sex.” His mouth fell open. She stood there in a tank top and panties, her legs bare and smooth, her hair tousled, her lips swollen. “I wasn’t using you for sex!” She lifted one eyebrow. “I wasn’t.” He surged to his feet. His pants, still unfastened, sagged a little around his hips and he jerked them up. “I wasn’t, Reagan.” “Then what the hell was that?”
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He felt that splintering sensation inside him again and closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered. His entire world was falling apart when a woman had him on the defense, on the edge. Maybe he needed to go back to the club and find some sub who wanted to be flogged. And maybe he should give his head a shake because he knew better than that. So much better than that. Christ. “It was me being an asshole,” he muttered. “Me trying to be in control when…” He couldn’t finish. “Come home with me. I do have to go look after Lucy. But come with me. Stay with me.” Where the hell did that come from? She regarded him with soft, thoughtful eyes. He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her slender body, and it was only then he felt the soft trembling. He pressed her face against his chest, one hand on her head, and rubbed his face over her silky hair. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “It’s hard. But I’ll try. Come home with me and let me make it up to you, Reagan.” Her head moved against him in what he hoped was a nod. “I’ll get dressed,” she said. He watched her walk away, her ass bare in the little thong panties. His dick swelled again. Christ, she had a beautiful ass. The things he could do to that ass… He’d been a selfish prick. She hadn’t even had an orgasm. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. What was wrong with him? He rubbed his eyebrows. He was better than that. He liked to be in control, but first he had to control himself, that was rule number one and he’d completely lost it there on her couch. Jesus, why was he forgetting everything he’d learned over the years? He’d learned a lot about himself through the BDSM journey. He knew his dominant personality tended to make him autocratic. Overbearing, maybe. His decisiveness and leadership abilities had helped him build a successful business, but it was learning to temper his authoritarian tendencies—being more tolerant of other people’s mistakes, more consultative, more sympathetic—that had made his staff so loyal to him. And yet lately it seemed that had all flown out the window. He moved to the fireplace to check the embers and make sure they’d burned low enough to leave safely. He paused with one hand gripped the mantel. Tonight he was going to be the caring dominant he’d always prided himself on being. He could control himself long enough to give Reagan what she needed. She was strong and brave and that was what it took to submit, and he could show her that, make her see her own strength. She may not know it, but he was going to teach her. A sudden memory flash of his ex-wife had his stomach swooping, though. But Deena was nothing like Reagan. His lips curled. Despite Reagan’s sheltered upbringing, she was a hundred times stronger than Deena had been.
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He’d teach Reagan about submission. But he just had to be careful he didn’t scare her. And he’d have to be careful his own emotions didn’t get too involved―like last time.
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Chapter Fourteen Reagan smiled at the ecstatic greeting Lucy gave Gabe, even more amused at Gabe’s growling response as he picked her up and cradled her in his arms, trying to avoid her frantic attempts to lick his face. “Oh for Chrissakes,” he said, walking into the kitchen. For some reason Lucy had scattered kibble all over the gleaming kitchen floor. Reagan couldn’t help but laugh, mostly at Gabe’s clearly affectionate complaining about what a bad dog she was. “But she’s so cute.” “Yeah. It’s a good thing she’s cute.” He let Lucy out into the yard, then told Reagan the story of how he’d gotten her from the shelter as she helped him clean up, the story making her heart turn over in her chest and a warm feeling expand inside her. “I don’t care if she’s not a big manly dog,” he finished. “I don’t need a dog to prove my masculinity.” She laughed softly. “No, you certainly don’t.” Once Lucy was back inside, he led Reagan upstairs to his bedroom. She followed him willingly, knowing what was going to happen, wanting what was going to happen, but unsure of exactly how it was going to happen. Nerves rippled inside her and uncertainty slid down her spine. She was still confused about what had occurred at her apartment, how one minute he’d been all into it and the next pulling away, and then he’d turned all alpha and had basically fucked her brains out on her couch. Whoa. She went all warm and liquid inside remembering. Even though it hadn’t been tender, it had still been damn hot. And she’d felt the need inside him, driving him, the need for utter control when she could see how out of control his world was feeling. So she’d given it to him, given him what she sensed he’d needed. It made her heart squeeze for him. Which was why she was there. Though she worried a little for herself, she had to do this…for him. He tugged his shirt out of his pants and began unbuttoning it. She hesitated, then went to sit on the bed. For some reason, she waited for his instruction. She watched him take his shirt off with avid eyes, as he revealed his beautiful muscular body to her. Not a young boy with a sleek hairless chest, he was a mature man with dark hair between his nipples, a few strands of silver among them, trailing down into the waistband of his black dress pants. He was power and grace and strength, his shoulders broad, his biceps rounded and bulging, his abs defined. A body that spoke of the hard physical work he’d done when he’d arrived in America.
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Her gaze caught on the red stripes on his chest, the marks she’d left on him earlier. Guilt tugged at something inside her, a little shame that she’d done that, and she didn’t really understand why. He stripped out of his pants, underwear and socks with slow, elegant movements and then he was standing there on the rug naked. He walked toward her on long legs, his thighs flexing powerfully, the lean bones of his hips prominent. Sitting there ogling a naked man should have made her uncomfortable, but she kept her chin up and looked wherever she wanted to look, including at his erection, thick and hard, jutting from the dark pelt of hair between his legs. She swallowed. “Reagan.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Stand up.” She stood. “You know I like to be in control.” She nodded. “Tonight, you let me be in control. Any way I want.” She gazed into his cobalt eyes. She knew it was important to him. And though it made her wonder what she was giving up―she wanted to give that to him. “Yes.” His eyes flickered. “Thank you.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart. So good.” She gave a jerky nod. She knew that. Had no doubt of that. Was a little afraid of that. “First we’re going to have a bath.” She blinked. “Okay.” That surprised her a little. He turned and walked over to the big hot tub on the platform in front of a dormer window and cranked on the taps. Water rushed into the tub. He turned to face her. “Come here.” She walked across the room on shaky legs. He slid a hand around the nape of her neck and kissed her mouth, slow, hot and wet. Then he drew back. “Take your clothes off.” She silently lifted her T-shirt over her head, then unzipped her jeans and pushed them down over her hips, kicking off her flip flips as she did so. She left her bra and panties on. His gaze heated her skin as he perused her, trailing a finger along the edge of the sheer gold bra she wore. “Pretty,” he murmured. “This isn’t what you were wearing earlier.” “I changed.” He nodded. “I like it. Thank you.” She wanted to say she hadn’t done it for him, but…she had. Her skin warmed even more. He brushed his fingertips over her nipples through the silky fabric and they tingled and tightened into sharp points. She swallowed a moan.
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“Do you like bubbles?” She gazed back at him uncomprehendingly, and he nodded toward several bottles sitting beside the tub. “Bubble bath.” Ah. She huffed out a small laugh and moved to look at the bottles. “Yes. I like bubbles.” They would at least provide some kind of coverage to her naked body in the tub. She picked up a bottle scented with amber and musk. He nodded. “Put some in.” She unscrewed the cap and poured in a generous amount and immediately foam filled the big tub. “This is a nice tub.” “Yeah. I don’t use it very often. I mostly shower.” She turned to him. “Okay, take the rest off.” He gestured to her bra and panties and she reached behind her back for the clasp of the bra. It loosened and she let it slide off her arms. He took it from her, then waited while she stepped out of her panties and took those too. She watched him set them on the dresser. She stood before him, let him look at her, which he did, up and down, taking his time, making her burn. A challenge. The heat and approval in his eyes gave her confidence, made her feel strong and beautiful. “Get in.” He jerked his head toward the tub and she climbed in and sank into the delicious warm embrace of water and bubbles. The steamy scent filled her head and she leaned back against the side and waited for him to join her. Which he did, his big body sending the water sloshing higher. He faced her, his legs on either side of hers, the water undulating around them in warm, wet caresses. So sexy. He reached out for her and pulled her toward him, through the water, until they were pelvis to pelvis. She looked up at him, feeling vulnerable and precarious. His hands slid to her butt. Water lapped around her breasts. His hard cock nudged at her center and she wanted to moan. “Gabe…” “Ssh. We’ll talk later.” He kissed her, his mouth opening over hers, his hands pulling her closer. She slid her hands up his wet chest, rested them on his shoulders. They kissed, over and over, long, drugging kisses that made her head spin. And she shifted closer, unsure if it was the rippling water that urged her closer, or his hands, or just…her. He shut off the water and heat rose around them, steam from the water made hotter by the passion between them. She ran her hands over his slick skin, wet and smooth, tipped her head back so he could kiss her throat. Her hair dipped into the water as she closed her eyes and let his mouth caress her, hanging on to his big shoulders. Then he lifted her higher, onto his lap and his mouth moved lower, to her breasts.
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She ached for his touch, her nipples tight and throbbing, and when he took one in his mouth, pleasure rushed through her body in a hot wave, straight to her womb. Her abdominal muscles tightened and twitched as sensation curled through her, his mouth tugging on her nipples one then the other, so wicked, so delightful. A rush of fiery heat inside her spread through her body, almost like an orgasm, a soft one, and she cried out. Had that really happened? “Beautiful,” he murmured against one soft curve, nuzzling her breasts. “Did you just come, Reagan?” “I…I think so.” She sighed as pleasure still rippled through her. “You’re amazing.” He kissed her nipples once more and she shivered. He reached for a loofah and a bottle of body wash and began to wash her, and the last remnants of that orgasm and his gentle touch all over her body made her feel lethargic and weak. He held her though, and tenderly cared for her, washing her back, her legs, her feet. He didn’t let her wash him, instead quickly scrubbing his body with the loofah and then helping her out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around his lean hips while he dried her, the texture of the towel exquisite on her sensitive skin. “You like sensation, don’t you,” he murmured, rubbing her wet hair between his towel covered hands. “Mmm.” She supposed she did. She’d always liked nice fabrics―most of her blouses were silk or fine cotton. She spent a lot of money on five hundred thread count sheets that she felt a little ashamed of, since it wasn’t necessary, but she enjoyed lying in bed with silky smoothness beneath her and around her. Yes, she liked to be touched―she supposed she always had, had just never really noted it. “I could tell…last time.” He’d spent a lot of time touching her, last time, and it had been so very lovely and luscious. “I want to make you feel so much,” he whispered, finally tossing aside the towel. “But you have to let me do it my way.” She looked at him with heavy eyes, so sensitized and relaxed she would probably let him do anything at that moment. “Okay.” “Do you trust me, Reagan?” “You know I do.” She would not be there with him, like this, if she didn’t trust him. “It might not all be gentle,” he warned her, hands stroking over her shoulders and down her arms, warmth trailing in their wake. She lifted her chin. “I know.” “Last time you were here, I could tell what you liked—what kind of touch.” “You spanked me.” “And it made you wet.”
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She licked her bottom lip slowly, and his eyes watched her and darkened. “Yes.” “Go sit on the floor beside the bed.” She gave him a questioning look, but did as he said, the rug soft beneath her bare feet as she walked, then beneath her bare bottom when she sat, her back against the bed. He disappeared briefly into the bathroom and returned holding a hairbrush, then followed her. He sat on the bed behind her, still wearing the towel, and positioned her between his legs. Then he started brushing her hair. Another thing she’d always loved was having her hair played with. It wasn’t always a sexual thing―a trip to the hair stylist with a scalp massage while her hair was being shampooed was just lovely sensual pleasure. But with Gabe, it was sexual. Sensation shimmered from her scalp down over her skin and coalesced in her pussy in a tight ache of need as he drew the brush gently through the damp, tangled strands. Every tug on her scalp had more streamers of pleasure rippling through her. The tugs grew gentler as he worked through the knots until he just brushed her damp hair out around her shoulders. Her eyes fell closed, warmth and languor drifting through her, and a soft moan escaped her lips. “So nice,” she whispered. He tipped her head back and bent over her to kiss her mouth, another long, slow kiss. The hairbrush dropped to the floor and he slid his hands over her shoulders, down her chest, fingertips brushing her collarbone, then cupping her breasts. He massaged them gently, her head leaning back on his thighs, then plucked her nipples between his thumbs. She twitched at that, sharper sensations stabbing through her, and made another little noise in her throat. “Your breasts are beautiful, Reagan,” he whispered. “Like the rest of you. So sweet and soft. Such pretty little nipples. And so sensitive. Did you know you could come just from having your nipples sucked?” God! His words were setting her on fire, never mind his touch. “That’s never happened before,” she managed to say through the lust swelling up inside her, hot and fierce. “Good.” He played with her breasts a little longer, then he stood, lifting her by her waist. She swayed a little, almost drunk on the delicious pleasure, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “Last time you…touched my back and my bottom.” He smiled down at her. “You liked that, didn’t you.” “Yes.” “I like touching you too,” he murmured, stroking the still-damp hair back from her face. “Your skin is so soft.” He kissed her temple. “Lie down now on the bed.” He turned her and she climbed onto his big bed with its silky moss green duvet cover. He reached into the drawer of the table beside the bed and pulled out something…a scrap of black fabric.
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He held up a blindfold. “When you take away one of the senses, your others become more acute.” She blinked. He was going to blindfold her? “But I want to see you.” “My way,” he reminded her quietly. She took a deep breath, exhaled and nodded. “Okay.” He placed the silk blindfold over her eyes, the strap around her head. She was now enveloped in darkness, sitting there. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he joined her and she felt him in front of her, felt his heat, his very presence. “Touch me,” he ordered her. She smiled, her cheeks pushing against the blindfold, and stretched her hands out. She encountered warm skin, hard muscles…his chest. She found his nipples and rubbed over them, bringing forth a groan. “Anywhere?” she asked. “Anywhere I want?” “Anywhere you want.” She cupped his shoulders, the bones heavy and strong beneath her palms, slid her hand down to his biceps and squeezed gently. “You feel so strong,” she whispered as the muscles swelled and tightened in her hands. She caressed his forearms, all the way down to his hands. Then she lifted her hands again to his chest, teasing the hair there. With sensitive fingertips, she thought she could feel the faint welts she’d left on him and another pang of guilt twinged inside her. She sighed. “I’m sorry I scratched you.” “It’s okay.” She dragged one index finger down the groove in the middle of his torso. She knew he was hard, she’d felt the bulge beneath the towel…did he still have the towel…her hands slipped lower, over the indentation of his navel, drifting across the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen and then encountering coarse curls…no. She threaded her fingers through them and tugged. He hissed in a breath. “You just don’t give up, do you?” he said. “You like that. And you said I could touch you anywhere.” “Fuck.” Daringly, she did it again, then found his cock, took it in both her hands and stroked it. She wished she could see, but being unable to see did add an extra perception to touching him, stroking a fingertip over a prominent vein, rubbing her thumb over the wet head. She licked her lips, slipped the fingers of one hand lower to cup his balls, big and firm, the skin so delicately soft there. She gently squeezed and stroked. “Okay, that’s it,” he growled grabbing her hands. “What? Already?” “I just wanted to give you a chance to touch.” He moved on the bed, coming around behind her. “Before I do this.” She opened her mouth to ask, do what? But before a word came out, he had her wrists cuffed in some kind of restraints. 118
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With her hands fastened behind her back she couldn’t even yank off the blindfold, so she sat there, lips pressed together. “Are you going to tie my ankles up too?” she demanded. “Do you want me to, sweetheart?” Amusement colored his deep voice. “No! I was being sarcastic.” “I know.” He kissed her mouth, a soft brush of his lips over her. Her lips parted, wanting more, but he drew back. Frustration tightened her insides. “Are you going to try to get away?” “Hardly. I can’t see a thing and my hands are tied up.” “Then I shouldn’t have to restrain your legs too,” he murmured, still not touching her. She sat there, aching for some kind of sensual relief. “Lay down.” She stretched her legs out and lay down face up, feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed. “Hold on,” Gabe murmured and he released one wrist. He drew her arms up over her head and then fastened them again. In the heavy silence, he didn’t move, and she could only picture him studying her, naked and stretched out on the bed before him. Her nipples puckered and she felt the heat of a flush slide up from her chest into her face. “That is so adorable,” he murmured. “The way you’re blushing.” She bit her lip, shifted her legs on the cool silk of the duvet. “Now it’s my turn to touch,” he said. “Anywhere I want.” She clenched her thighs briefly together, not to deny him, but just in a reflexive, self-protective gesture. “Yes, even there,” he said softly. “Eventually.” He stroked his hands on her thighs but didn’t try to part them. “Relax, Reagan. You’re tense.” Her heart thudded erratically and her breath came in short spurts. The incredible languor she’d experienced earlier had disappeared, replaced by a buzzing tension. “I…I’ll try.” His hands massaged her, her quadriceps, his fingers digging into tight muscles, lower to her knees and calves and she tried to relax, but she was so aware of how vulnerable she was like that, excruciatingly conscious of his eyes on her, his hands on her. The air crackled with currents and she tried to slow her breathing. “Relax,” he said softly again, his hands moving back up her legs, easing over her hips and waist, just barely brushing across her breasts. Her nipples tightened into agonizing tautness. A touch on her belly…his mouth. His tongue, licking her. Heat curled inside her again and her thigh muscles loosened a little. He nuzzled her curls, paused to breathe in, presumable smelling her, and more fire streaked through her veins. “That’s not relaxing me,” she gasped and heard his soft laugh in response. “Let’s roll you over,” he murmured. “Maybe that will help.” 119
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He gently eased her over onto her tummy, ensuring her hands above her head were comfortable. One hand stroked over her ass. She felt marginally less exposed, able to bury her hot face into the coolness of the duvet cover, not missing her sense of sight so much when she wouldn’t have been able to see much from this position anyway. And she’d loved when he’d touched her like that last time. She felt his touch on her butt cheek, recognized another kiss, a soft love bite, and she melted more inside, softening into the mattress. She moaned. “There are so many ways we could play,” he said from behind her, hands cupping her ass. “So many sensations you can experience. I want to give that to you, Reagan, but we can’t do it all in one night.” He nipped a cheek again. “I could tease you with a feather.” She trembled. “I could drip hot wax onto your beautiful skin. Maybe onto those pretty nipples.” Her nerve endings jumped at that. Oh my god. “I know you’d like it,” he murmured against the small of her back. “But tonight I’m going to do this.” And he rolled away from her, just briefly. She heard rustling sounds, and then sensations again…something pulled lightly across her ass. Something hard and narrow. Again. And again, just stroking her. “What is that?” she asked, voice muffled by the comforter. “What does it feel like?” “Like…I don’t know. A stick.” “Very good. It’s a cane.” Her pussy clenched sharply and her skin tingled everywhere. “Gabe…I don’t know…” “Do you trust me?” She bit her lip briefly. “Yes.” She did, she really did, but she was afraid…what if she liked it?
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Chapter Fifteen The strokes changed to taps, light taps against her skin, moving down to the backs of her thighs and then her calves, up and down her legs, never hitting the same place twice. Her skin tingled with enjoyment and expectation and she wriggled a little on the bed. Then the intensity changed to little stings, and heat flared over her nerve endings and rushed through her veins, making her dizzy. The intensity built again as he tapped her ass, then eased off as the strikes moved up her back in a relentless rhythm, to her shoulders, then back down. When his touch reached her ass again it grew sharper, and heat spread from a sting into slow, sweet pleasure. “Gabe!” He bent and whispered in her ear, stroking the cane gently again over her flesh. “Okay sweetheart?” “I’m okay, I just…” “Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “Don’t fight the sensation.” “I don’t know if I can…” “You can.” He kissed her shoulder, replacing the cane with his hand momentarily and rubbing and petting her. “You can do it. Go inside yourself. Take the sensation, Reagan, and transform it. You can do it.” She wasn’t sure what the words meant but yet inside herself she understood, because she felt herself rising up, her head going floaty and light, her body a warm glow of pleasure. He began his tapping again, moving over her body, a barrage of white hot sensation. She never once had a fear that he was injuring her or drawing blood, only that he was giving her something. She found a place where she could process that and understand and then…surrender to it. The heat on her ass and the back of her thighs bloomed and spread as he picked up the pace and the force of the strikes, never to the point where she couldn’t stand it, even as she absorbed it and let surrender overtake her. She could no longer distinguish individual strikes, only a hazy glow radiating over her body, a complex balance between dark pleasure and sweet pain. Her senses sharpened in her complete darkness, her body a shimmer of sensation. She was sure she could hear his feet brushing on the carpet as he moved around the bed. The spicy scent of the body wash they’d used earlier in the tub teased her nostrils every time he moved nearer, warmed by his body. The quickened pace of his breathing told her how this excited him. Which intensified the pleasure coursing through her, like an orgasm that was lasting forever, her body poised on the peak of a volcano, the wind
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on her face, so high, so very high, so wonderful and exciting. A flame twisted inside her, heat consumed her, dark edgy pleasure wrapped around her. And then the strokes slowed…and stopped. The bed dipped beneath Gabe’s weight as he climbed on and moved over her, covering her with his body. A low groan escaped her at the joy that gave her, the weight of him so reassuring, so secure, so protective. His cock, thick and hot pressed against her ass. “Gonna fuck you now,” he whispered in her ear, and lust flipped over in her tummy. He moved again, grabbed her hips and lifted them off the bed, and then his cock probed at her entrance and she pushed back into his groin greedily. “Easy,” he murmured, one hand on the middle of her back between her shoulder blades, holding her down. “Easy, sweetheart.” The head of his cock stroked up and down between her cheeks, for a moment resting on her anus, thick and heavy, making her shudder with forbidden pleasure. Then he directed his cock to her pussy, probing again, stretching her tissues, pushing into her, filling her with such delicious sweetness. In this submissive pose, hands bound and stretched above her head, his hands holding her hips up to him while he fucked her from behind, she could only submit to it, couldn’t fight it. She gave herself over to it and just sank into it, the edgy euphoria, the dark pleasure. “So hot,” he groaned, sliding out and then back in with agonizing slowness. “So hot and so damn wet. Christ, Reagan. There’s no way you can tell me that didn’t affect you.” That was true, but mainly because she couldn’t even speak at that moment, her body so sensitized and her mind so drunk on pleasure. He slid a hand around her belly, cupped her pussy, so very lovely, his fingers playing with her clit. She jerked against him, cried out, sensation filling her, pressure building inside her, expanding all through her body, burning her from the inside out and the outside in. He held her as he drove into her in hard, pounding strokes, shaking her body, touching nerve endings inside her that had her head lifting, had her crying out. His hand slid up her back, fisted her hair and tugged, and that final touch sent sensation sizzling from her scalp right to her womb and then it all burst, with cataclysmic force. Blistering pleasure tore through her, dazzling her in the darkness of the blindfold. She cried out again and then he went very still, uttering harsh noises that gratified her and intensified everything, every erotic, electric sensation. He fell over her, his body damp with perspiration against her back, and sank his teeth into the back of her neck, holding her like that, his arms beneath her, as if he were claiming her in some kind of primitive animalistic gesture. It thrilled her to her core. His breath ragged in her ear, she drifted in and out, unsure how long they stayed like that until he moved away from her, leaving her body sweaty and cool. She lay there, still heady and floating.
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“Beautiful, Reagan. You did so beautifully. You’re amazing.” He paused, then in a thick voice, added, “Thank you.” She felt the power of it. She felt her own power, then, how in giving in to him like that, she’d given so much to him. Gabe’s lungs burned and his entire body still felt on fire, but he had to look after Reagan. He hadn’t kept her up there very long, but probably long enough for her, and she could come crashing down pretty hard after that little scene. She’d handled it beautifully. He rolled off her and off the bed, bent and unfastened her wrists, then turned her over onto her back. He carefully, slowly lowered each arm, massaging her muscles, then slipped the blindfold from her face. She kept her eyes closed and he lifted her into his arms. Soft-boned and limp, she clung to him, her hair tangled around her face. He dragged back the covers on the bed and gently laid her down on the sheet, then slid in beside her, drawing the sheet and duvet up around them. She curled into him and he wrapped her in his arms and the covers, rubbing her back, her hips, her thigh that had lifted against his hip. A fine trembling started deep inside her, he sensed it, felt it intensify and he kissed her mouth, stroked her face, her hair, tried to bring her in closer to his body heat. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered over and over again. “Damn Reagan. You’re incredible.” She mumbled something incoherent and he didn’t bother to ask her to repeat it, let her recover, trying to ease the pain of re-entry for her with his touch, his warmth, his kisses. Eventually the trembling slowed and ceased and her breathing became more even. “Want to sleep,” she mumbled against his throat. He smiled. “Yeah. You sleep, sweetheart. You need sleep.” That had been pretty intense. He too felt sated and tired, his body anyway. His mind though was active as he thought about everything. She was an amazing woman, continually surprising him with her vulnerability and her strength, with the strength she had to be vulnerable— which as he knew, was one of the scariest things there was.
***** When Reagan awoke the next morning, she was alone in Gabe’s massive bed. She lay there, listening to the silence of the house. As if her senses were all still on hyperalert, the soft sheets brushed achingly over her skin as she moved and the scent of Gabe mixed with the scent of sex filled her head. She turned her face into the pillow and breathed in deeply. She had no idea how she was supposed to feel about everything that had happened last night. She’d never scratched a man like that, had never had that intense urge to do that. And she wasn’t sure if she should feel ashamed of how she’d responded to what he’d done to her. Her face heated as blood sizzled through her veins at the memory. 123
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Maybe she felt ashamed because she wasn’t ashamed. She’d loved it. But my god, she’d lain there and let him hit her! But it had been unspeakably beautiful, and then after, he’d been so tender and solicitous, more than any other man she’d ever known. And when they’d made love again later, it had been amazing. A movement on the bed startled her and her head lifted to see a white fluff ball. Two big brown eyes regarded her, a pink tongue hanging out of a smiling mouth. “Lucy,” she murmured. “Hey girl.” She’d never had a pet and didn’t know much about dogs, but damn, that little mutt was cute. She freed one hand from the covers and held it out. “C’mere, Lucy.” The little dog crawled across the bed on her stomach and then, once near her, flipped onto her back, one paw coming up to her face. Reagan smiled. “You’re not submissive at all, are you, girl?” “She wants you to rub her belly.” Reagan’s eyes flew up to see Gabe standing in the door, all big and gorgeous and radiating power, holding two cups of coffee. Tentatively, Reagan touched the soft little belly and rubbed. “Now she’ll be your slave forever,” Gabe said, strolling into the room. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips, his chest bare. He handed her one of the mugs. Like she might be for him. Already she found herself craving more of what he’d given her last night. “Thank you,” she said, sitting up and taking the cup from him. “The service for my mom is at eleven o’clock,” he said. “At the cemetery. I can drive you home before that. Or you can wait here. I’ll probably only be gone about an hour, hour and a half.” She thought about that. “Or I could come with you,” she said bravely. He paused. His fingers tightened on his coffee mug. His face remained expressionless but she saw a flicker in his eyes, a softening at the corners of his mouth. “You could.” He gave a short nod. “I’d need to go home to change.” “It doesn’t really matter what you wear.” “I’m not going to a funeral in the clothes I came here last night in.” She rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom, conscious of his eyes on her. In the small room, she turned so she could see her back in the big mirror on the wall. Not even a mark. When she emerged moments later to find her jeans and long sleeved T-shirt, he sat on the bed, drinking his coffee. “You’re pretty good with that stick,” she said, picking up her underwear from the dresser. He laughed. And she loved the sound of it. “I know.” “Modest, too.” He shrugged, smiling.
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Oh dear lord. He knew exactly how skilled he was with that thing. He drove her to her place, Lucy sitting on her lap. “I don’t know many funerals that are attended by dogs,” she commented, rubbing Lucy’s soft head. “She seems a little anxious about it.” “She just doesn’t like riding in the car.” “Ah.” “And I think my mom would like it if she’s there.” She smiled and nodded. In her apartment, she changed into a white cotton skirt and a loose mauve top. When she emerged from her bedroom carrying two pairs of shoes, Gabe studied her and the corners of his eyes tightened. “You’re wearing purple.” She smiled. “Your mom’s favorite color.” His nod was abrupt and he turned away. “Which shoes should I wear?” She held up a pair of high-heeled white pumps in one hand and a pair of white flip flops in the other. Gabe turned back to face her, and she caught a hint of the emotion he’d turned away to hide. Her heart tilted a little. “The flip flops,” he said neutrally. “We’ll be walking through the cemetery, those high heels will just sink into the ground.” She nodded and dropped the flip flops to slide her feet into them. “That’s what I thought. I just wanted to make sure.” “It’ll probably be just you and me,” he said, his voice sounding gruff. “And Lucy.” She smiled at him. “Right.” They drove to the cemetery, which was back near his place. Along Cabrillo, people biked and jogged on the ocean side and on the other side lingered outside restaurants after Saturday morning breakfast. The sun sparkled off the ocean, a little choppy in a brisk breeze. The flags on Stearns Wharf snapped and fluttered against the clear blue sky. In the green park-like cemetery, old sycamore trees lined the road. Gabe knew where to park and then he clipped Lucy’s leash to her collar and they walked along a path between headstones, many of them adorned with fresh flowers, leading them toward a small crowd of people. His footsteps slowed as he seemed to realize all those people were there for his mother. A minister approached him with a calm smile and shook his hand. Gabe greeted the others with a bit of a dazed expression on his face―Tracy, today a turquoise layer of hair showing through the pale blonde, Gunther, other men from the construction company who Reagan didn’t know, some of them clearly construction workers with calloused hands and big muscles, others looking more like office workers, in more expensive casual clothes. Reagan stayed at his side as he introduced her to his coworkers, then to some older ladies who apparently had been friends of his mother’s and then to some staff from the home where his mother had been cared for. With polite courtesy, he shook hands, 125
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kissed cheeks and thanked everyone for coming. Reagan caught the interested looks on his coworkers’ faces, especially Tracy’s, as they looked from her to Gabe and then at each other. “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection into eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to almighty God our sister Almina and we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, they rest from their labors, and their works follow them.” Reagan bowed her head, with a brief thought to Gabe’s religion—apparently he was Christian—something that had never crossed her mind. His mother’s name was Almina. And she liked purple. Gabe tossed in the purple asters he had brought with a murmured, “Rest in peace, Majka,” and others also stepped up to the grave and threw flowers. Reagan’s throat tightened though she had never met the woman who was being laid to rest there. She glanced frequently at Gabe, gauging his emotion. He appeared relaxed though solemn. After the short ceremony, the others stayed to briefly chat until finally only she and Gabe remained at the graveside. She slid her hand into his and to her surprise he lifted it and kissed her knuckles. Without looking at her, he said, “I told her about you.”
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Chapter Sixteen She blinked up at him, the sun gleaming on his dark hair and highlighting the silver strands, shadows of the trees shifting over his face. “You did?” “The night she died. She really couldn’t hear me or understand me, hadn’t been able to for months, but I talked to her anyway, about anything I could think of. I…wanted her to know about you. Before she was gone.” Jesus, she was going to burst into tears. Her throat ached and her eyes stung, a feeling of pressure behind her cheekbones. He’d taken that step of telling her something so personal, so…moving but she didn’t want to make him regret it by getting all maudlin about it. So she leaned her head against his upper arm and said, “That’s good.” She swallowed. “That you told her.” They stayed a little while longer, but Lucy was tugging at her leash, wanting to chase squirrels and birds and sniff anything she could, so they finally turned and walked slowly back to Gabe’s vehicle. Back at Gabe’s place, he said, “Lucy would love a run on the beach.” “I bet she would.” Gabe left his shoes and socks on the deck and they found the path through the boulders piled on the shore and began strolling along the damp packed sand near the water’s edge. A couple of people in wetsuits were out surfing, trying to make the best of the waves. They passed others walking, jogging, other dogs running off leash who paused to greet Lucy. They sniffed each other with curious noses and then moved on. Lucy chased sticks Gabe threw for her, even into the water. “She’s going to be a mess!” Reagan said, laughing at the little dog. “That’s okay. She may look like a prissy little dog, but she doesn’t act it. She loves the beach.” Reagan paused to pick up a rock that caught her eye, perfectly round and washed smooth, with stripes of gray and beige and taupe. “I love ocean rocks. Isn’t it beautiful?” “Yeah. Here…another one.” He handed her a pretty rock and she smiled. The breeze whipped her hair around her head and she gave up trying to control it. She turned her face to the sun, carrying her flip flops hooked over a finger, and walked closer to the water so it rushed over her bare feet, cool and foamy. Gabe bent and rolled his khaki pants up a couple of turns, and for some reason his bare ankles and feet seemed so incredibly sexy. He said little and she didn’t push him, sensing from the few moments of opening up to her he’d had that he would do more when he was ready. Maybe. For now, it was 127
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enough to be with him, to hold his big warm hand, to take pleasure in the sun, the sparkling ocean, the joy on Lucy’s face as she laid a stick at his feet. They walked and walked, then turned back. Near Gabe’s home, he pulled her higher up onto the beach and tugged her down to the soft dry sand. He slid his arm around her waist and she snuggled against him while Lucy sniffed at a big piece of driftwood, all pale and smooth. “I can’t believe all those people were there. They didn’t even know my mom.” “They were there for you, Gabe.” “Christ. I don’t deserve that.” Her heart squeezed. “Why do you say that?” “You know I’ve been acting like a jerk lately.” She laughed. “Oh, that.” After a short silence, he said, “Thank you, Reagan.” Her heart squeezed. “For what?” “For being here. For not pushing.” She didn’t want to tell him how worried she was for him, for what he was keeping inside him. And she didn’t want to tell him how worried she was for her, that she cared so much about him. This wasn’t part of her plan in coming to Santa Barbara. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a relationship again, giving up everything she’d worked so hard for—independence and freedom and faith in her own ability to look after herself. But she was falling, falling into it. Down, down, over and over, like the ocean waves were tumbling her down to the ocean floor.
***** They met first thing Wednesday morning with Joe and Tara to go over their design proposal. Reagan felt confident that they were going to like it, with a certain knowledge that together she and Gabe had worked some magic. The conflict and disagreements between them when they’d first started working together had sparked some kind of creative tension, a building on each other’s thoughts and ideas that had truly resulted in brilliance. It made her feel warm inside, made her smile. They’d seen each other every evening. And spent every night together. Yes, having hot, intense sex. And talking about so many things. She still didn’t know if that was a really good idea, but he was like a narcotic drug she was fast becoming addicted to. Jeebus. She knew how destructive addictions could be. What was she doing? Tara and Joe loved their design proposal and were happy to confirm they had the job if they wanted it. Which of course they did. “This is awesome, Reagan,” Tara said to her. “And Gabe.” “He deserves equal credit,” Reagan said. Tara’s smile shifted into a knowing one. “Thank you,” Gabe said dryly. 128
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“I can’t thank you enough. And I can’t wait to get started!” Tara walked them out of her office at Santa Ynez Olives, on the second floor of the building they owned on State Street. “You’re both still coming this weekend, right?” “Yes, we are. I’m looking forward to it.” She leaned closer to Tara and whispered in her ear, “One bedroom.” Tara’s amber eyes danced and she gave a little nod. Out on the sidewalk on State Street, Reagan turned to Gabe. “Congratulations, Mr. Pejovic.” He smiled. “Thank you. And to you, Ms. Somerville.” Heat swirled around them as they smiled into each other’s eyes. “We make a good team,” he said. “We could go into business together.” She blinked at him. “If we were looking for something to do,” he added. “Which we’re not.” No. Of course they weren’t. “Well. I better get back to work,” she said. “I have to visit a job site.” “Me too.” He bent his head and brushed her mouth with his. “See you tonight?” She nodded, a constricted feeling in her chest as she watched him walk up the street toward where he’d parked.
***** Gabe picked her up Saturday evening to drive to the ranch for Tara and Joe’s party. “What about Lucy?” she asked, fastening her seatbelt as he tossed her small bag and a package into the back seat. “Will she be okay overnight?” “I’ve got a neighbor checking in on her in the morning, to let her out and feed her.” “Oh, good.” “What’s in the parcel?” he asked, climbing into the driver’s seat. “A housewarming present. They said this was sort of a housewarming party, so I thought I should get them something. Of course I have no idea what to buy for the house since I’ve never been there.” She smiled. He liked seeing her smile like that. “So it’s just a set of wineglasses.” “I didn’t think to buy anything.” But he liked it that she had. That was thoughtful. “That’s okay. It can be from both of us.” A very “couple” thing to do. Gabe’s belly muscles contracted. Not that he minded being part of a couple, but…he was starting to feel like he was living a lie. He’d told Reagan about himself and what he liked, and last weekend he’d showed her, some of it. But there was still so much she didn’t know. The only time he’d ever told a woman the truth about him, she’d been so repulsed and terrified it had destroyed anything between them. He’d tried to live a lie after that
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but it hadn’t worked out so well. He could only be who he was and he’d long accepted that and accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to find a traditional happy ever after. Reagan was the kind of woman who deserved that, so he wasn’t sure what he was doing. But lord help him, he couldn’t seem to stay away from her. The drive was made largely in comfortable silence, with Reagan pointing out things to look at on the way through the mountains. In the valley, with the sun low in the sky, fields were drenched in golden light, trees vivid green, the mountains darkly outlined against the blue sky. “You remember the way?” she asked him. He slanted her a look, gratified by her immediate response, even though she’d just been teasing him. “Okay, you do.” He smiled. They hadn’t gone close enough to the house to get a good look at it last time they’d been out there. He pulled into a circular driveway at the front of the sprawling ranchstyle with white stucco and red clay tile roof. Huge cacti, flowers and mature olive and oak trees surrounded the house, and purple-spiked salvia and some kind of golden flowers filled pots on the front steps and flowerbeds. They stood before a heavy carved wooden door and rang the doorbell. The door opened and Tara stood there, dressed in black leggings and a loose top, looking relaxed and happy. She held a wineglass in her hand. “Hello! Come in! Welcome.” Joe appeared behind her and took their bags. Tara exclaimed over the gift and Joe showed them which room would be theirs. Gabe lifted an eyebrow at Reagan as they left the guest bedroom. Apparently Joe and Tara knew they were a couple. He’d forgotten Tara and Reagan were friends. They walked down the hall to a spacious, airy living room with vaulted ceilings, walls of mellow pine paneling and big arched windows. Music played over speakers in the corner. The beeswax scent of candles on the wide mantel drifted in the air, and a few other people sat on the comfortable furniture arranged in front of the stone fireplace. “Did you say you’d redecorated?” Reagan asked Tara. “Yes! It’s been a lot of work. I’ll give you a tour in a few minutes. But first come meet our other guests.” She introduced them to the others, one other couple, Jude and Holly, a single guy named Carlos and Tara’s sister Sasha and her boyfriend Nick. “We’ve met,” Gabe said as he shook hands with Nick. “Nick used to be my lawyer before he bailed on me.” He smiled at the other man. Nick had left his successful law practice to take over running a youth center, which had been a bit of a surprise. Gabe had heard his marriage had split up not long after that, but here he was with Tara’s sister. “Yeah, how are you Gabe? Long time no see.” They chatted a bit and then Tara led them away to tour the house.
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“The house was built in the fifties,” Tara said. “My grandparents built it. When my parents died, my grandfather moved into town to rear Sasha and me and the house wasn’t used much for a long time. But I always loved it here, so Joe and I decided to move out here.” She led them into the kitchen. “It needed a lot of updating. We redid all the cupboards and counters and backsplash.” “It’s gorgeous,” Reagan said, looking around at the pine cupboards, black granite counters and terra cotta floor tiles. “Original flooring?” “Yes. It’s getting dark but we have amazing views from the windows.” They quickly toured bedrooms, a room that had been turned into a home office for both Tara and Joe but which now had a double bed set up in the middle of it for guests, an updated powder room and main bathroom, all decorated with a comfortable style that matched the bones of the ranch house—faintly rustic, but modern and clean. The doorbell rang again just as they walked through French doors from the dining room onto a tiled terrace with a small, Spanish style fountain where water gently splashed, shaded by a vine-covered arbor. Clay pots of palms and other tropical plants sat in the corners among lounge chairs and tables. “I’ll get it,” Joe said and disappeared back into the house. “We get a lot of sun here,” Tara said. “But there’s some shade, too. It’s very peaceful sitting out here. Joe wants to put in a swimming pool.” “That would be awesome.” “Let’s go see who else is here,” Tara said, leading the way back inside. Gabe stepped into the dining room, the large table there already covered with dishes of food—crackers and cheese and dips, olives, and at the end, a selection of bottles of olive oils. He grinned. For the tasting later, he presumed. “It’s Tori and Dev!” Tara said and headed straight toward the couple who’d just arrived. “Oh good!” Reagan smiled and followed her, and, with a jolt, Gabe lifted his head and saw Tori Markham—his former play partner at the club, the woman he’d thought he’d fallen in love with.
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Chapter Seventeen Reagan greeted her new friend Tori, eager to meet her doctor boyfriend. Tori had mentioned that Dev was younger than her, but wow—considering Tori was about the same age as she was, Reagan had to blink at how young Dev was. But then, he had to be older than he looked, because he was a doctor, after all. And he was gorgeous. Go Tori. But Tori looked younger than her age too, being so petite, and they were a cute couple, clearly in love. Reagan hugged Tori, shook hands with Dev, then turned to introduce Gabe. He stood a little behind her, but when she turned to him and reached for his hand, he was staring at Tori. And Tori was staring at him. And suddenly the atmosphere in the room thickened as Reagan picked up on the tension emanating from Gabe’s big body. Her hand tightened on his. “Hi Tori,” he said quietly. “Gabe.” Tori’s eyes warmed with both affection and sadness. She hesitated, then moved toward him and as Reagan watched, her insides going cold, they hugged. “You two know each other?” Reagan asked through stiffly smiling lips. Tori shot Reagan a look that she could not read, full of all kinds of things—dismay, regret, uncertainty. “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t realize…” Her voice trailed off and an awkward silence filled the room. Reagan watched Gabe and Dev shake hands with extremely firm handshakes, exchanging eye contact through narrowed eyes. It became excruciatingly clear to her that Tori and Gabe had had some kind of relationship and Gabe and Dev were jealous of each other. This was the woman he’d thought he was in love with, who’d broken up with him for someone else. Nausea churned a little in her stomach. She’d wondered if Gabe still had feelings for that woman, if that’s what had been the source of his moodiness, and now, watching him watch Tori and study Dev with cool eyes, her concern about that zoomed up into big old worry and insecurity. Tara started chatting, a nervous edge to her voice, offering drinks and food, and Tori and Dev moved further into the room to say hello to the others there, who they apparently already knew. Reagan looked at Gabe, met his eyes, and despite his controlled expression, saw the storm in his eyes. She asked him a question with her own eyes and he stepped closer. They couldn’t talk there, then, and at that moment Reagan wanted to leave the party, to just go home and hide in her apartment. She hesitated, even as Gabe took her hand in his big warm one and squeezed it. 132
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Okay. This was another challenge. Pretend everything was okay, that she didn’t suddenly feel a sharp curiosity and resentment toward the woman she’d thought was a friend, on top of a churning sick feeling in her gut. But Tori hadn’t done anything to her. She couldn’t help her past relationships, ones she’d had long before Reagan had met Gabe. This wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just…was. And Reagan had to deal with it, like the new adult that she was, like every other challenge she’d forced herself to step up to. So she pasted a smile on her face and joined the party, accepting a glass of wine from Joe, listening to Tara talk about the olive oil tasting she planned to hold a little later, laughing as Tara endured teasing comments from other guests about drinking oil. She and Gabe sat side by side on a love seat, and she was achingly aware of him there, the looks he slanted at Tori, despite the fact that he slid his arm along the back of the sofa behind her. Tori met her eyes at one point, tipped her head to one side in some kind of unspoken message that Reagan wasn’t sure how to interpret. She smiled at Tori but Tori’s return smile was faint. She talked to Tara’s sister about her work at the Southern California Museum of Art, which Reagan had visited a few times since moving to Santa Barbara. She listened to Dev and Tori bicker a little about his apparent reluctance to move in with her into her house. She smiled and laughed and sipped her wine, feeling a little like she was an actor in a movie, saying the lines, going through the motions, but it wasn’t real. “Reagan and Tori, I could use some help setting up for the tasting,” Tara said. “Would you mind?” Okay. She knew what this was. “Of course.” She carried her glass with her into the kitchen. An older house, the kitchen was separate from the living room, not one of those open concept plans with everything all one room. There, Tara turned to both Tori and Reagan with big, troubled eyes. “Okay, what’s going on?” she demanded in a low voice. She looked at Tori with lifted eyebrows and a tight mouth. Tori’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…” She looked at Reagan. “I didn’t know you were seeing Gabe.” “It’s…new.” Tori looked at Tara. “I didn’t know.” “You and he…?” Tara asked the question, though Reagan already knew the answer. Tori looked uncomfortable. She gave Tara a look, a long look that Reagan didn’t understand. There were a lot of undercurrents running beneath the surface there that she didn’t understand. “At the club?” Tara asked Tori. “It was him…?” Tori nodded, eyebrows sloping down over her troubled eyes. Then both women turned to Reagan. “How well do you know Gabe?” Tara asked.
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Reagan blinked, taken aback. “You know I haven’t known him long. We just met that day at my office…” “Has he talked to you about the club?” “What club?” Reagan’s confusion mounted. “Christ,” Tori muttered. She looked at Tara again, as if looking for help. Tara slumped against her gleaming granite counter. “What’s going on?” Reagan asked. When they didn’t immediately answer, she said, “I know about you and Gabe, Tori.” Tori frowned. “I mean, I didn’t know it was you. That’s why I’m surprised. But he told me about a relationship that had ended not long ago. He…” She swallowed through her aching throat. “He was hurt.” Tori sighed and rubbed her mouth. “I know he was. But it wasn’t really a relationship, Reagan.” Again, she glanced at Tara. “Then what was it?” After a brief pause, she said, “I think you need to talk to Gabe about it.” Reagan gave a short, bitter laugh. “Oh sure. That man just loves talking about his feelings. I’ll do that.” “Seriously.” Tori gazed at her. “Maybe I should talk to him.” Oh yeah, as if Reagan wanted that. But what could she say? She shrugged. “Sure. If you want. Not sure how much your boyfriend will like that. I caught the tension between them.” “It’s not like that. They have a…mutual respect for each other.” Reagan lifted her hands in a “whatever” gesture. “I’m sorry,” Tara said. “I didn’t know it was Gabe, Tori.” “I know.” The cryptic conversation just made Reagan’s head ache. They were saying things that didn’t make sense to her but obviously did to them, and she felt like an outsider, out of the loop, a little clueless. She did not like feeling that way. “Let me talk to him,” Tori said. “Reagan, don’t worry. There’s nothing between us any more. In fact, there really never was. We were just good…friends.” The hesitation before the word “friends” told Reagan that their relationship had certainly been more than friends. “Look it’s no big deal,” Reagan said, smiling. “Gabe and I really don’t know each other that well, and whatever’s between you and him―well, that’s between you and him. I apologize for all this awkwardness.” “It’s not your fault, Reagan,” Tara said immediately. “It’s my fault. I should’ve checked…”
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“It’s not your fault either,” Tori interrupted crisply. “You had no way of knowing. I’m sorry this got sprung on you, Reagan. I do think you and Gabe need to talk and I’m going to…no. I’m going to get Dev to talk to him.” Reagan gaped at her. “Yeah.” Tori smiled and tapped her bottom lip. “That’s kind of funny actually. I’m sure Dev would love to give Gabe some advice.” “Advice?” “Or maybe kick his ass.” Tori grinned and Reagan felt even more lost. “I’m going to have a word with Dev right now.” “What can I do to help with the tasting?” Reagan asked Tara when Tori had left the room. “Nothing. That was just an excuse for us girls to talk. More wine?” Reagan let her glass be refilled. Yeah, more wine was what she needed to get her through this. Back in the living room, Tori had separated Dev from the group and was having a low-voiced conversation. Reagan sat beside Gabe again, aware of his keen glance at her as she did so. She couldn’t help but watch Tori and Dev, the way their heads bent close together, the way he curved his hand around the back of her neck beneath her hair, the way he watched her so warmly. Tori laid a hand on his chest. Dev nodded, frowned, smiled and nodded again. Then he kissed her, a brief touch of his mouth to hers, but the tenderness of the gesture, the way their bodies touched, made Reagan feel warm inside. She gulped her wine. “Everything okay?” Gabe asked her. She slanted him a look. “You tell me.” His mouth tightened. “We’ll talk later.” “Really?” She couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm from her voice and his eyes darkened. “Shit, Reagan. Don’t be mad.” She turned incredulous eyes on him but said nothing. Tara moved everyone into the dining room for the tasting and there was much laughter as she poured oils into small paper cups and showed everyone how to warm it with their hand, inhale the scent, taste the oil for sweetness and spiciness, stickiness and smoothness. Reagan tried to be distracted by it all, but once again that underlying current of electricity still buzzed in the room. Was everyone aware of it, or just her? When they’d finished tasting the oils, Tara urged everyone to help themselves to the food she’d set out, and the guests mingled and talked, ate and drank. Somehow Gabe and Dev separated from the group and were having a private conversation. Reagan, talking to Sasha and Holly, strained her ears to hear what they were saying, tried to watch without being obvious. Gabe’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashed, but he
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listened to Dev and nodded. Then he rubbed a hand over the back of his head, looking away from Dev. What was Dev saying to him? “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Gabe shot Dev a glare but it held rueful acknowledgment of what Dev was saying. “Hell yeah.” Dev grinned, that boyish grin that made him look about twenty years old. Gabe couldn’t help but like and respect the guy. And he was making Tori happy. “I remember a conversation where you told me about the importance of honesty. You haven’t told Reagan about yourself yet, have you?” Gabe regarded Dev. If he only knew. “If you’re talking about the club, then no. It hasn’t come up.” “How can it not come up?” Dev asked. “It’s part of who you are.” “I’ve been taking a break from it for a while. On Joe’s advice actually,” Gabe added with a jerk of his head toward their host. “Huh.” Dev nodded slowly and took a gulp of his beer. “How about that. Ah. Well, then, how are you going to explain your relationship with Tori to Reagan?” “I don’t have to explain it.” “Oh holy Christ,” Dev groaned. “Can you hear yourself, man? You preached honesty and knowing yourself and talking about things at me. What the fuck?” Gabe’s gut clenched, forced to acknowledge the truth of Dev’s words. “You told me living a lie is like being in prison.” Dev’s dark brown eyes studied him. “What are you doing, man?” He didn’t want to hear this. Dev’s words were piercing the shell around his heart like the tip of a sharp knife poking at him. “If I tell her the truth about me, she’ll know the truth about Tori.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Yeah,” Dev said. “Tori knows that. She’s okay with it.” Gabe nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her everything. And you can watch while she runs for the nearest hills.” “You don’t know that.” No, he didn’t know that. Last week when he’d dominated her, she’d submitted so beautifully to him, he’d felt that connection of spirit. And that was the problem. “It’s intense, right?” Dev asked. He paused. “Yeah.” “You taught me that, Gabe. That whole other level of relationship. Why can’t you have that with Reagan? And don’t tell me it’s because she’s new to it. So was I.” “That’s not it.” Dev didn’t know about his ex-wife. And he didn’t know about all the shit that had happened in his past that convinced him he was too messed up to be in that kind of intense, intimate relationship. “You gotta be honest with yourself, first,” Dev added softly. 136
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Gabe said nothing. It was true. He’d told so many people that over the years. Why was he having such a hard time walking the walk? Living the message. He was fucking terrified. And the fear clawing its way up inside him, tearing up his guts, fucking with his mind, was probably the worst fear he’d ever felt in his life. And he’d felt fear. Oh hell, had he. “What are you going to do?” Dev asked. Still Gabe said nothing. Because he didn’t know. He needed to think. He knew he had to tell Reagan the truth about him. If he didn’t, he got Dev’s implied threat―Tori and Tara would tell her. “I’ll talk to her,” he said. “Tonight.” Dev nodded. “Hey. If you need anything, from me or Tori, or even Tara or Joe, just let us know.” He clapped Gabe on the back. “We’re here for you, man.” That just about undid him. That these people would be his friends, would offer to help when he was being such a dickhead, made him feel like dirt on the floor. Fuck. The party got increasingly lively, with talk getting louder and laughter more boisterous, and it was nearly two in the morning before everyone started making noises about calling it a night and moving to the bedrooms Tara and Joe had assigned everyone. In their room, a nicely decorated room with a real bed as opposed to inflatable ones others were sleeping on, Reagan flicked on the lamp and sat on the bed. Gabe stood there, fingers going still on the buttons of his shirt, studying her, looking so small and defenseless and sad. And afraid. “Want to talk now?” he asked quietly. “Sure.” She straightened her shoulders and gave him a brave smile that tugged at something deep inside him. “What did Tara and Tori say to you? About me?” “Nothing. I mean, Tori said that you two were ‘friends’.” She made air quotes with her fingers and gave a tight laugh. “I know she’s the one you broke up with.” “Well.” He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. “It wasn’t exactly a break up. I have to tell you about my relationship with Tori, but that means I have to tell you some things about myself that may shock you. And…” He paused. “This means I’m going to have to tell you some things about Tori too, that probably not many people know. She’s okay with it, but I want you to promise me that you’ll keep this confidential.” Her gaze flew up to his, surprise evident in her wide eyes. “Well…of course.” Puzzlement tinged her voice. “I don’t care about me,” he continued. “But I know Tori wouldn’t want the whole world to know.” She searched his face with her eyes. “I won’t say anything.” “Tori and I belong to a BDSM club,” he began slowly. “Do you know what that is?” “Yes.” 137
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Now he looked searchingly at her. “You do?” “I may have led a sheltered life, but I’m not naïve. I’ve read books about it. I’ve never been to a club like that, but I have some idea of what goes on there.” “Okay. Well. Tori and I were play partners for a long time. We were a good match. I’m dominant, she’s submissive.” Reagan blinked and shrank back a little as if she didn’t want to hear this. “Tori likes pain,” he said quietly. “Pain,” she repeated slowly. “Like being smacked with a cane.” “Yes. And more.” “Dear god.” “Don’t judge her. It helps her deal with the stress in her life. She likes to let go of control.” “I’m not about to judge her,” she said quietly. “After what happened last weekend.” She paused. “What about…Dev?” “Oh hell. Yes, Dev’s a Dom too. A new Dom, but he and Tori…they’re perfect together.” “I could see that.” “At the club, I’d hook up with submissives from time to time.” “What did you do? With them?” The question sounded dragged out of her. He looked at her. “I don’t know if that’s important. What I did with them isn’t important to us. What I do with you is important.” “Oh.” “I just want you to know who I am. And hopefully understand. It’s complicated. Tori and I met and we each had what the other needed. She let me tie her up and hurt her. Yes, there was sex involved. Yes, I got emotionally involved, which was stupid and I should have known better. When she met Dev it was done between us. But…” He bent his head. “I realize now, Reagan…what Tori and I had really wasn’t love. We never met outside the club. We talked a little, and I knew her on a certain level, but…I don’t know what her favorite food is. Or if she likes to walk on the beach and pick up stones.” Her eyelashes fluttered up and down. He curved his hand around the back of her neck to turn her to him. “I don’t know if she likes dogs or if she likes to sit in front of a fireplace and read books. She never knew about my mom, never knew she was sick, let alone that her favorite color was purple. That can’t be love.” She blinked again, her bottom lip trembling. “You liked hurting her?” He nodded, holding her gaze. “Do you understand that, though? Do you understand why? Yeah, I like control, and maybe I have some sadistic tendencies.” He huffed out a laugh “But the reason I liked hurting her was because it was what she needed.” He paused. “You liked it too, Reagan.” 138
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She gave a short nod. How could she deny it? “That’s what domination is to me. It’s giving the sub what she needs. But…” He rubbed his face. “Lately I’ve been questioning it all.” “Is that what’s been bothering you?” “Maybe. No. I don’t know. Hell.” He lifted his eyes and looked at her again. “I wasn’t happy. Wasn’t getting what I used to get out of it. Then I met you and…you make me wonder what the hell I’ve been doing all these years.” “I…I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Great, ‘cause neither do I.” He smiled at her, trying to coax an answering smile from her. A wisp of a smile touched her lips. “The thing is, it’s a journey, right? We’re all learning about ourselves. I learned a lot about myself from BDSM, but lately it’s like I forgot it all. Or maybe I just have more to learn.” She nodded. “It was good, Reagan.” He leaned closer and brushed his lips over her velvety cheek. “Between us. Admit it.” “Yes.” “Do you trust me, Reagan? To know what you need and give that to you?” She tipped her head to one side so he could nuzzle the side of her neck, kissing the soft flesh there, gently sucking it. “Yes,” she moaned. “I trust you Gabe. I don’t know why, because I still don’t think you’re telling me everything. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.” “Yes. I would.” He drew back and looked deeply into her eyes. “But you have to trust me to know how much.” He circled her wrists with his fingers. “Do you?”
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Chapter Eighteen She sank into his touch, his mouth on her, his hands holding her wrists like handcuffs. Confusion swirled inside her along with a curl of arousal. He made her want to be with him, all the time, every time, just with a look, a touch, a word. She should be angry at him for not telling her about Tori—except he sort of had. He didn’t know she knew Tori. Tori didn’t know she knew Gabe. Did she believe him when he said there was nothing between them any more? His words replayed through her head, about not knowing his mom’s favorite color, about him not knowing Tori’s favorite food, with a ring of truth. He said that wasn’t love and she agreed. But what was this between them? He and Tori had…lord, she didn’t even want to think about it. What kinds of things did they do at that club? Was he one of those men who expected women to be his slave, under his control twenty-four seven? “You want to be in control,” she said, her voice emerging shaky and husky. “Yeah. And I know you want to let go. I saw it in you. Just let go, Reagan. Let me give you what you need.” “I don’t know if I can do that.” What did he want from her? Yes, she’d let him cuff her wrists and cane her. She still felt she should be ashamed of that, for letting a man do such a thing to her, except that it had been so incredibly amazing. It would be so easy to fall into to it, to let go of control, to let him take over and give her everything. But that was what she was trying to get away from. That was what she’d done her whole life—let her parents do everything, let Marshall do everything, let everyone do things for her and then she’d ended up with nothing, empty and alone. She couldn’t do that again. “Are you afraid?” “Yes!” His mouth on her throat made her quiver, sent heat cascading over her body. “Yes, I’m afraid!” “Of me?” “No! Not you. I’m just afraid of…losing everything.” She swallowed. “I’m afraid of losing myself. I…I just found me.” He drew back slowly. He released her wrists and framed her face with his big palms. “Oh, Reagan. Nobody can take that away from you.” He kissed her mouth. “You’re amazing. You’ll never lose that. And I don’t want to take that away from you.” “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It scares me.” “I know. I know it’s scary. But you said you were setting challenges for yourself— this is just one more. One more thing for you to conquer.” 140
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“I don’t think I can be what you want.” “Oh Reagan. You already are.” He kissed her then, on the mouth, a long slow open-mouthed kiss, holding her face gently in his hands. She sank into it, heat unfurling inside her, her stomach doing a slow roll of lust and need, his words only increasing the feelings surging inside her. “I’ll let you do it,” she whispered against his lips long moments later. “Whatever you want. On one condition.” “What?” He rubbed his nose along the side of hers. “That after, you let me do whatever I want to you.” He went very still. Then he drew back. He smiled at her. “You’re kidding, right?” “No.” She moved her head from side to side and held his gaze steadily. “I’m not kidding. Isn’t it fair? You can tie me up and spank me and fuck me and do whatever you want to me…” Jesus, just saying that made her wet and weak and needy, and want to just forget all this talking and get right to it. But… “And I have to trust you. So it’s only fair that you would trust me to do the same. Right?” His smile faded. A crease appeared between his dark eyebrows. “That’s not how it works.” “Why not?” His frown deepened. “I’m new to this,” she whispered bravely. “Explain it to me.” “Are you fucking with my mind?” he demanded. “Because if you really don’t want this, just say so, Reagan. You don’t need to play games.” She jerked away from him. “I’m not! I’m serious! What is wrong with that? There’ve been a couple of times I hurt you…and I got the distinct feeling you liked it.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” She slid off the bed and stood, distancing herself from him. “Are we really arguing about this?” “We’re not arguing!” She lowered her chin and looked at him. “Oh really?” He let out a sound like a growl, low and wild, and a thrill of fear and excitement ran through her. She truly wasn’t playing games, but his intensity and power was kind of stirring. Arousing. He stared at her, eyes dark, his beautiful mouth firm. “Not gonna happen,” he finally snapped. She blinked at him. She couldn’t believe he was saying no. Was he that stubborn? That much of a control freak? How could he tell her to give in, to let go, to just…submit…when he wasn’t willing to do the same? Did he not realize how important this was to her?
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“Okay,” she finally said slowly. She gave a short nod. “Okay. Forget it.” She walked over to her bag and started pulling out the things she’d packed—a small toiletry bag and, dammit, a sexy babydoll nightie with matching panties. As if she wanted to wear that now. She did have a T-shirt she’d been planning to wear tomorrow so she scooped it up along with the toiletry bag and disappeared into the bathroom attached to the room. Inside, she locked the door and sat on the edge of the bathtub. She clasped trembling hands together and stared at the fluffy mat on the gleaming white tile floor. This had been a crazy night and she was burned out, exhausted, drained. She didn’t understand half of what had gone on and had a million questions buzzing around in her brain, not to mention a bad case of lust that Gabe’s promises had aroused in her. She wanted him. She painfully, almost shamefully, had to admit she’d do anything for him. Her stomach jumped at the thought. When he’d caned her, the pain had added a thrilling erotic edge that had taken pleasure to a whole new level. She wasn’t innocent. Despite the shortcomings of her marriage to Marshall, they’d experimented with a lot of different things. They hadn’t gone to a club and done it in public—the thought of which had her pussy clenching and dampening yet again—but still, they’d done a lot in their home. They’d had a set of handcuffs, for heaven’s sake, were there any couples these days who didn’t experiment with a little bondage, a little spanking, a few toys? But oh dear lord, the things they’d done had never been like what Gabe had done. She pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. That had been the craziest but most erotic and arousing sexual experience she’d ever had. Unfortunately Marshall hadn’t turned out to be as trustworthy as she believed Gabe to be, and the little movie-making escapade had gone bad. Really bad. Maybe Gabe was into much harder core stuff than that, but god…she’d be willing to try almost anything. With him. Maybe she didn’t get this whole domination and submission thing, but she still didn’t think it was unreasonable to ask for the same thing in return. The day she’d scratched him, although she’d felt guilty afterward at seeing the marks, she’d had a deep, visceral desire to do it, an instinctive, certain knowledge that it was going to do something for him, give him something he needed. It was going to make him feel. Something he did not want to do. And there it was. She sucked in a long breath, wiped her eyes, which were now wet, and rose to her feet. She changed from the pretty camisole top and jeans she’d worn for the party, took off her bra and slid on the soft T-shirt. She washed her face and then, wearing T-shirt and panties, opened the bathroom door. Gabe sat on the bed just where she’d left him. She dumped her things onto a dresser and walked toward the bed on shaky legs. Lifting her chin, she smiled at him. “Your turn.” 142
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He just gave her a blank look, then rose. She slipped past him and pulled down the fluffy duvet cover on the bed and slid into it. She scooted over to the far side, leaving lots of room for him when he returned, and tucked the covers up around her ears. She felt him standing there, felt the tension simmering inside him, felt his heavy gaze on her. She squeezed her eyes closed against the disappointment and confusion and pain that cut through her and waited until she finally heard his footsteps moving away. She focused on breathing while he was in the bathroom, trying to stop her body from shivering as if she’d just gone for a swim in the Pacific. He was going to come back into the room, get into bed with her. She’d heard about him and what kind of man he was, how he liked to be in control. Would he make her do what he wanted to? Because if he touched her, she wasn’t sure she could resist. But he didn’t touch her.
***** The next morning, Tara had coffee and muffins and fruit set out for anyone who wanted them. Reagan and Gabe were the first to arise. Reagan had woken early, sensing Gabe was awake too, and they’d dressed without saying much in unspoken agreement that they needed to get the hell of out there and back to Santa Barbara. They gulped down a fast cup of coffee, said no thanks to the muffins, ignoring Tara’s worried looks at them. “Sorry to rush out,” Gabe said to Tara. “I’ve got a busy day.” “Thanks so much for inviting us,” Reagan said. “It was fun.” “Sure,” Tara said with a crooked smile. “Not exactly what I planned, but oh well.” “I’m sorry.” Reagan sent her an anguished look. Tara hugged her. “I told you last night, don’t apologize.” She whispered in Reagan’s ear, “You two okay?” Reagan gave a brief shake of her head. “Call me when you get home,” Tara said. “You have my cell number.” “Okay.” Reagan took a deep breath in preparation for the drive back to town. Luckily it wasn’t that far and traffic was light. Gabe seemed disinclined to talk and although she still had a million questions, she wasn’t going to ask them unless he was going to answer. Which seemed unlikely. Damn him. As they got closer to town, and then closer to her place, she worked her anger against him up to a storm. Jesus, he was difficult! Arrogant. Stubborn. Why she cared, she had no idea. He was a jerk. She was better off without him. She slammed out of the car when he pulled up at her apartment building, grabbed her bag out of the back seat and stomped up to her front door.
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“Reagan.” Dammit, he was right behind her. She paused, with her key in the lock of the front door of the building without turning. “What?” He moved up close behind her, his body touching hers, his heat enveloping her, his scent teasing her nostrils, and she closed her eyes against the sensations he provoked in her. “You’re angry.” “No. Not at all.” He snorted at her sarcasm. “I wish you could understand.” “Gabe.” She still didn’t turn to look at him, just bent her head to look at her hand gripping the door knob. Sometimes telling someone the truth, a truth they didn’t want to hear, could be the hardest thing to do. This was a challenge like no other, and even more scary because she did care for him, so damn much, and she knew what she was going to say wasn’t going to be easy for him to hear. “I do understand. I understand that you’re in denial about what’s going on with you, whatever that is. You think you need to be tough and in control, always. You think you’re weak if you let yourself feel pain. But you don’t see that your obsession with controlling your emotions is keeping you from living a…a life that’s full and meaningful and loving. You said you weren’t in love with Tori and now…” She gave a short laugh. “I believe it. Because you’re not capable of loving. You say you loved your mother, but you barely showed any emotion when she died.” He took a step back from her, and now she did turn and look at him over her shoulder. His face wore a stunned expression that he quickly shuttered. As usual. “If you can’t have feelings, then I guess you can’t have feelings for me. I’ve asked you to talk to me about it. And you’ve refused. Why should you expect me to submit myself to you, to put myself at your mercy, when you’re holding back from me?” She met his gaze challengingly, and he glared at her, eyes burning, his jaw tight. She opened the door to the apartment building, walked in and shut it behind her, the lock clicking into place. Gabe stared at the closed door of Reagan’s apartment building. What the hell? He lifted his hand toward the buzzer. In denial? Him? His hand paused without pushing the buzzer. She was the one who didn’t get it! He should have known that getting involved with someone who didn’t understand the whole domination and submission thing wasn’t going to work. Fuck, he should have known! He dropped his hand to his side and shook his head, then turned and walked back to his Jeep.
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At home, Lucy’s ecstatic greeting distracted him from the gaping hole that had opened up inside him. She didn’t appear to have gotten in any trouble during her stay alone overnight. He found a note from the neighbor on the kitchen counter letting him know Lucy had gone outside a couple of hours ago. He changed, unsure what he was going to do with the rest of his Sunday. Sundays were the day he usually visited his mother. At that thought, a small knife blade twisted inside him. He was never going to be doing that again. Sadness swept over him and he paused, hands gripping the edge of the marble counter in his bathroom. He was probably never going to be seeing Reagan again, either. He slammed a hand down on the counter. Fuck! How had things gotten so fucking fucked up? He pushed away from the vanity. He could always go to the office and do some work. But somehow he had a feeling his mind wasn’t going to cooperate. At times like this, he longed for the physical release of working on a construction site. But there were things he could do around the house that would tire his body and leave his mind free to process things. There were a lot of things he didn’t want to think about, but somehow he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself and maybe that was what he really needed—to give some long hard thought to what he was doing. He’d picked up some azalea bushes at the garden center yesterday that he hadn’t had time to plant. He’d do that. Digging in dirt was good. He’d pull some weeds, mow the small yard he had in back of the house, hose off the deck, maybe clean the gutters. He let Lucy run free as he dug and planted and watered. And his mind worked. Thinking about the funeral and all the people who’d showed up. Reagan had said because of him. Guilt smacked him in the face because he’d been such an asshole lately, short-tempered with the people who worked for him when he knew better. But mostly he thought about Reagan and the things she’d said. She just didn’t get it. Or did she? Her words had stung like sharp slaps to the face, had stunned him, left him wordless. He didn’t want to pull out those words again and let them hurt him, but he couldn’t stop it, like you couldn’t stop worrying a canker sore. Like maybe he wanted to feel that sting of truth. His obsession with controlling his emotions. His denial of his feelings. His belief that feeling pain was a weakness. And yet…didn’t he tell subs all that time about the strength there was in submission? How hard it was, how scary it was to let go of control, to trust someone enough that you could do that. He’d tried to tell Reagan that, for Chrissake, tried to tell her to step up to the challenge of it. And she’d said yes. He had to admire the courage that took for her, given her past. But there’d been a condition—and he’d been too stubborn and too deep in denial to agree to it. And maybe too afraid.
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He patted soil around the roots of an azalea plant, grabbed the hose and gave the earth a good soaking. Then he picked up his shovel and moved on to the next one. He’d been telling people what to do for a long time. At work. At the club. Giving advice. Was he that blind that he couldn’t see that he needed to take his own advice? Pressure built in his chest, and he stomped sharply on the blade of the shovel to dig deeper, jerked the soil out of the hole with fast sharp movements. Sweat built on his forehead and his back, and he paused to strip his T-shirt off. The sun was almost directly overhead and he let it heat his skin, let the activity make him sweat, make his muscles burn. If it meant losing Reagan, was he prepared to be that mule headed? He turned to pick up another of the bushes and found Lucy laying there, quietly shredding the plant, scattering pieces of leaves and purple blossoms on the grass. “Lucy!” Her little head jerked up at her name and she looked at him. “Bad girl! What are you doing?” He strode over and grabbed what was left of the plant away from her. “Jesus Christ!” She cowered. Her head went down onto her paws and she looked up at him with big brown eyes. But he was furious. “You little bitch! Look what you did! You destroyed the plant!” He reached down and grabbed her, not gently, but she didn’t make a sound. He carried her up onto the deck, over to the French doors and set her firmly in the house. “You stay inside!” And he shut the door on her sad little face. His heart constricted, but he turned his back on her and returned to his work. He stood there, surveying the mess. Jesus. He lifted one hand to the back of his neck and turned his face to the sun for a moment. It was only one plant. It wasn’t something to get that bent out of shape about. But he knew…it wasn’t really the plant that he was upset about. With a growl of frustration, he finished digging and planting, watered and cleaned up, then raked up the mess Lucy had made and tossed it into the trash. One destroyed plant. Ah well. For a few hours he occupied his body if not his mind. He hosed off his deck, watered and weeded and then headed inside. His anger at Lucy had long since dissipated. He’d take her for a long walk on the beach. When he walked into the living room, though, his anger returned at seeing the mess on the floor. Lucy had pooped. Several times. Messy, disgusting poops. Oh for Chrissake. Had she done that just to get back at him for yelling at her? “Lucy!” Where the hell was she? He strode through the living room, then saw her lying on the rug next to the couch, beneath an end table. She didn’t lift her head to look at him. “Lucy! Bad girl, again! Come here!” She didn’t move.
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Shit. He crouched and stretched out a hand to her. Her eyes moved but nothing else. “Lucy. Hey. You okay girl?” And then she rose up onto her front feet, opened her mouth and with a quiet retching sound, threw up on the rug. Saliva dripped from her furry chin. “Jesus. Lucy, come here. Are you okay, baby?” This time he reached over and pulled her out, worry over her superseding his usual revulsion at vomit. Her little body was shaking. “Oh, no. No.” She was sick, goddammit. Oh fuck. He cradled her in his arms. “What is it…oh Christ.” The plant she’d eaten. Had that made her sick? That had to be it. His gut churned and his sweaty skin went icy. Oh god. What if…he had to get her to the vet, right away. Without showering or changing, mud on his feet and hands and who knew where else, drenched in sweat, he grabbed a T-shirt and his keys and raced out of the house. The vet wasn’t far, just up on Coast Village Road. But were they open Sundays? Probably not. He skidded to a halt. Shit. Well he’d go there anyway. Lucy lay on the seat beside him in the Jeep, something she never did, panting and trembling and drooling excessively, so thoroughly miserable it made his heart hurt. Shit! The vet was closed. But there was a phone number on the sign to call for emergencies. He grabbed his cell phone. “Hang on, Lucy,” he muttered.
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Chapter Nineteen Tori and Tara walked into Reagan’s apartment later that afternoon. Reagan had called Tara, as Tara had asked, but after a short, unhappy conversation, Tara’d said, “Stay there. Tori and I will be there in an hour.” “Nice place,” Tara commented as she took a seat on Reagan’s couch. Reagan gave a short laugh. “It doesn’t compare to your house.” Tara waved a hand and snorted. “You should see Tori’s place.” Tori, sitting beside Tara, frowned. “A lot of good it does me to have a nice home when Dev won’t move in with me.” “Why won’t he?” Reagan asked. She sat in an armchair across from them. “Because he’s too proud,” Tori said. She dropped her purse to the floor and crossed her legs. “He’s still paying off student loans from med school and he doesn’t want to be a ‘kept man’.” She made finger quotes. “So charge him rent,” Tara said. Tori laughed, then tipped her head. “Yeah. You know, I could do that. He could pay me the same rent he’s paying for that tiny apartment he’s living in.” “There you go.” Then both women turned their eyes on Reagan. “Okay, spill it all,” Tara ordered. “What’s going on with you and Gabe?” “Nothing, now.” She tried to keep her voice steady, her fingers locked around her knees. “Not because of…me?” Tori asked. “No.” Reagan smiled reassuringly at her friend, trying not to think about her and Gabe naked, with Tori tied up and…she blocked that mental image with a quick close of her eyes. Tori licked her lips. “I guess you know about the club now.” “Yeah.” “So you…” Tara hesitated. “You’re not into that lifestyle.” “No.” But then Reagan realized something. Tara knew… “Are you?” “Well. Yes. Sort of. I…well, Joe is, and I…it’s a long story.” “I’ll tell it,” Tori said with a smile. “It’s kind of funny. Tara thought she was a dominatrix.” Reagan gaped. “Oh.”
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Tori laughed. “She joined Le Château so she could go there and dominate men. Turns out she wasn’t very good at it.” She grinned and Tara made a face. “Joe showed her what she really wanted.” “Oh,” Reagan said again. “So you also like…” “I like to submit,” Tara agreed. “But only to Joe.” She met Reagan’s eyes. “I do whatever he wants me to. But nobody else.” Reagan blinked and absorbed those words. “My story is different,” Tori said quietly. “I knew for a long time who I was, but I didn’t think I’d ever find a man who got it. Gabe and I met at the club. I’m sure he told you this.” Reagan nodded. “We were play partners. We filled a need for each other. But that’s all it was. When I met Dev, I couldn’t do that any more. I only wanted to be with Dev. Dev didn’t get it at first either, he had a hard time with it. Gabe helped him understand and to realize what was inside him.” They made it sound so…matter of fact. “Gabe helped you two get together.” “Yeah.” Tori huffed out a laugh. “That’s the kind of guy he is.” Reagan nodded. Even though he thought his heart had been broken, he’d helped someone he cared about. Her heart ached a little. “He said you like…pain.” “Yes.” Tori met her eyes with a steady gaze. “I don’t know if you understand that… how pain triggers chemicals in our brains—endorphins. How it creates pleasure…a euphoric state of pleasure. Pain induced pleasure. It’s a natural chemical high like no other, and for me it calms me down, lets me go inside myself and be quiet.” Reagan nodded, remembering the caning. It had taken her pleasure to a whole new level. A dreamy, floaty high. “What happened with you and Gabe last night, Reagan?” Tara asked. “Is it the domination and submission stuff that you can’t deal with?” Reagan slowly shook her head. “No. I knew about that. I mean, not about the club, or how…extreme he is. But he’d told me he likes to be dominant and frankly, that came as no big surprise. I’m not shocked by it.” She held up both hands and looked from one friend to the other. “Don’t think I’m shocked by you, either, or…” “Disgusted? Disapproving?” Tara smiled. “If you were, we would understand.” “No, no, I’m not. Only in that, it’s surprising…because you’re both so strong and in control. I…I’ve admired you both ever since I met you.” She bit her lip. “So it’s a little surprising. I guess it just…opens my mind to it.” She shrugged. “I was ready to…to let Gabe do whatever he wanted. Like you said.” She nodded at Tara. “I trust him, and…I know whatever he does will only be good for me. But…” She looked down at her hands. “Then what happened?” She told them about what she’d said to Gabe, what she wanted him to do. And how he’d refused. “I got a feeling from him…before…he likes it but he doesn’t like it.” She paused. “He doesn’t want to feel anything. But I think there’s so much inside him.” 149
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“Whoa.” Tara fell back into the couch cushions. “You are one brave lady.” Reagan smiled crookedly. “Brave? More like stupid. I guess I don’t really understand him.” “Actually I think you understand him better than anyone,” Tori said slowly. “A lot better than I ever did. But he’s pretty determined.” “I know.” She sighed. “But I can’t be with someone who won’t tell me what’s inside him. If there’s a reason he doesn’t want me to do that to him…” She stumbled on her words a little. “He should just tell me. You know what he said? ‘It doesn’t work that way.’ Jeebus! That’s like a parent telling a kid, do what I say, just because.” “Well.” Tara and Tori exchanged a glance. “That is how it works.” “I can’t believe you’re saying that!” Reagan stared at them, then laughed. They were both strong, independent women who ran companies and made big money decisions and directed a lot of people who worked for them. This still boggled her mind a little. “I don’t know if we can explain this so you understand,” Tori said slowly. “But I totally trust Dev. In every way. I know he’d never do anything that would hurt me or be bad for me. I trust him to know what I need, what I want.” “And just so you know, Joe doesn’t control everything I do,” Tara added. “There’s no way I’d allow that.” She grinned. “Although he has his ways of convincing me…” “So it’s not…all the time. Like, he tells you what you can spend your money on, or…gives you an allowance. Or tells you who you can be friends with.” “Christ no!” Tara looked like someone had just committed a murder in front of her. Tori shook her head firmly. “No, no. Me neither. It’s not like that. There are relationships like that, sure, but Dev doesn’t try to do that at all. I feel loved. Taken care of. Safe and secure. But not…controlled.” “That’s the problem!” Reagan cried. “People have been taking care of me my whole life!” She bent her head, then lifted her face to see surprised looks on both women’s faces. She sighed. “Let me tell you about my old life.” They listened as she talked, listened with warm eyes and encouraging nods. “I’m never going to do that again,” she finished. “I never want to be trapped like that, at someone else’s mercy.” “Oh, honey.” Tara reached over and covered her hand with hers. “Reagan. I knew there was something…”She paused. “Okay. I’m so sorry that happened to you. But wow…look at you. What you’ve accomplished. You couldn’t have handled Gabe if you’d met him two years ago, when you first came here.” Reagan choked out a little laugh. “No, you’re probably right.” “Actually,” Tori said. “That’s very true. I believe a submissive can’t be submissive unless she—or he—can look after herself first. I’ve seen subs at the club who’re just into it for the power exchange, who just want someone to do everything for them. Most doms don’t want a doormat. Especially Gabe. You have to have self-confidence and 150
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strength for the power exchange to work. Tara’s totally right. You’re so much stronger now…and that’s what you need to be with Gabe.” “Submitting to another’s will doesn’t mean we lose our own will,” Tara said. “You get something out of it, too. You get pleasure from pleasing someone else. And Gabe is the most…well, one of the most caring doms I’ve ever met. For him, it’s all about taking care of his sub and giving pleasure.” Reagan’s heart missed a beat. Giving pleasure. And she suddenly realized the difference between what had been between her and Marshall, and between her and Gabe. Yes, she and Marshall had played some kinky games, but it had only been games and it had always been about his pleasure. Despite the fact that he controlled pretty much everything in her life, she realized now there’d never been a sense that he did that because he wanted to take care of her or to please her. For him it was just the control. She covered her mouth with both hands. Tori spoke again. “In my job, I’m in control all the time. I spent my whole life growing up looking after other people, making decisions. For me, to let go for a while, to give up control, gives me peace. It lets me go inside myself and truly, utterly relax.” Reagan nodded. That she could understand. “I find submission very empowering,” Tara said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it would be that way, but it is to me. It was very hard for me to understand at first. But I made the decision to submit to Joe. I wasn’t pressured or directed to, I chose to. That in and of itself, is empowering to me.” “It’s the power exchange,” Tori said to Tara. “He only has power over you because you give it to him.” “It’s different…for each of you,” Reagan said, turning their words over in her mind. “It’s different for everyone,” Tori said softly. “It’s what you want it to be. You and Gabe.” “It seems like you two are trying to convince me that I should submit to him. That I should do whatever he wants me to.” And she did remember how powerful she’d felt after submitting to him. She did get it, but… “No.” Tara shook her head firmly. “That’s not it at all. We’re trying to tell you that you and Gabe need to figure out what you both want and how to give it to each other.” She paused. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” “Yeah. I think so.” Reagan smiled brightly. “But I’ll get over it.” “You shouldn’t have to get over it,” Tara said. “I could see Gabe has feelings for you, Reagan. A lot of feelings.” “A lot,” Tori added. “He never looked at me the way he was looking at you, Reagan. Never.” She sighed. “I told Dev to kick his ass, but I guess he didn’t do it hard enough. Now we’re going to have to go talk to him again.”
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“No.” Reagan held up a hand. “No, you’re not. I told him exactly what I was thinking. And what I think about him. It’s up to him. And…I think he’s the kind of man who doesn’t want to be pushed. I don’t think that would go well.” They studied her. “You are probably very right about that,” Tori said with a sweet smile. “Oh, Reagan. He so needs you.” Reagan gave a crooked smile back. “Well. He’ll have to come to that realization himself, I think.” “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do…?” “No. Thank you, though. Thank you for…” Her throat tightened. “Thank you for being my friends.” “I hope you and Gabe work things out,” Tori said, and she hugged Reagan. “I really do. You deserve to be happy. He deserves to be happy.” Reagan smiled sadly. “I wish he knew that.”
***** Gabe walked out of the animal clinic a couple of hours later, without Lucy. His insides ached, his head hurt, his chest burned. Jesus. The stupid little mutt. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel in his Jeep, hot from the late afternoon sun. He could feel his pulse points beating, the drag of air into his lungs as he breathed, the throb of sore muscles from the work he’d done earlier. He sat in his vehicle for a long time, trying to breathe, pressure building inside him, his mind churning. A storm of violent emotions pounded inside him, almost scaring him. His whole world was bursting open, flying apart. Lucy was all he had left. No. Reagan. She was his. She didn’t know it, didn’t understand it, but she was his. And he would do anything to keep her. Truth came crashing down on him, realization of all the things he’d been pushing deep down inside him, things he’d only ever told one person about, things he’d tried to pretend didn’t matter in his life, but…they did. They’d made him who he was. Despite everything he’d learned about himself over the years, years of being in control, he still hadn’t learned it all. And maybe he never would. It had taken one not-so-simple emotion to make him feel everything. Love. He’d just been too stubborn and blind to know it. With fingers numb and rubbery, he started his vehicle and put it into gear. In a nearly blind trance, he drove, somehow automatically obeying traffic signals, somehow not running over pedestrians or plowing into stopped cars. He parked, again managing to do so without driving up onto the curb or hitting any other cars, got out and walked up to the front door. He rang the security buzzer and waited, forehead leaned against the stucco wall. Reagan’s scratchy voice came over the intercom. 152
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“Reagan,” he croaked. “It’s me.” A pause. “Gabe?” “Yeah. Please. I need to see you.” The buzzer let him in and he fumbled at the door, yanked it open, climbed the one flight of terra cotta tiled stairs to her floor. She’d already opened the door to him, and stood there, a crease of worry between her pretty eyebrows. She was so beautiful. So sweet and pure. “Reagan,” he said again, stepping into her apartment. She carefully closed the door behind him, then moved in front of him, laying her hands on his chest. “Gabe? What’s wrong?” He couldn’t speak. His throat had constricted so tight he couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. “Come in.” She took his hand and pulled him into her living room, bright with the late-day sun that flooded through the patio doors to her small balcony. Music played softly through her speakers but he didn’t know what it was, could barely hear it over the buzzing in his ears. She tugged him to sit on the couch beside her and he turned to her, pulled her into his arms, onto his lap, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “Gabe, Gabe. What?” Her fingers moved over his shoulders and neck. “Lucy.” “What about Lucy?” Now her fingers dug into him. “Is she okay?” “No.” She jerked back and stared at him wide-eyed. “What do you mean, no? What happened?” “She got poisoned.” “What!” His eyes burned and he covered them with one hand. “She ate an azalea bush. It’s poisonous to dogs.” “Oh my god!” She cupped his face urgently in her hands. “Oh my god. Is she…” “She’s in the hospital.” “Oh.” He felt her exhalation of relief. “She’s alive?” “Yeah. But they’re keeping her there. She’s on an IV so they can give her fluids and some kind of medication. She has a…a needle in her leg. They had to shave some fur off.” “Oh, Gabe.” Her voice softened and she leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his. “Oh, Gabe. She’ll be okay.” “I…I don’t know. They said they think she will. They said to check back later tonight to see if she can come home.” Her throat worked as he saw her swallow. “I didn’t know the stupid azaleas were poisonous. I bought them because they were purple. Christ, how could I have been so stupid?” 153
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“You didn’t know! Who knew! I didn’t know that.” “I just turned my back on her for a few minutes. I was busy planting them and…” “Gabe. She’s going to be okay.” He gave a jerky nod. “Yeah. I think so. But…I’m not so sure about me.” She gazed at him with those big golden caramel eyes. “It’s scaring me, Reagan. It’s all big and dark and sharp inside me. It’s breaking apart, flying apart, I can’t control it…” “It’s okay.” She whispered the words, her fingers soft and cool on his face, his neck. She kissed his mouth, his jaw. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay. You love Lucy, I know, but she’ll be okay.” “I was thinking about things. While I was working. About what you said to me. And I want to tell you…everything…about me.” Her mouth went soft and pouty and her eyes shone. “Oh.” “You won’t like what you hear.” She held his gaze. “That could be true. But that doesn’t mean I won’t like you.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Oh Reagan. You undo me.” “Tell me.” She snuggled in against him, not looking at him, which made it easier. He stroked her back, ran his fingers through her hair, took a deep breath. “This goes back a long time. A very long time. A lifetime ago. You know about the war that happened in Bosnia. Back in the nineties?” “Yes.” “I was very young, about twenty. I was in university but I had to join the army and fight, to protect my country. My family, my friends.” She nodded against him. “It was a terrible war, Reagan. Towns and villages were shelled without thought to the lives there. There was so much killing. Ethnic cleansing. Mass rape. Genocide.” He felt her body tighten beneath his hands. Agony speared through him, black memories he’d never entirely banished, but had buried. “I didn’t want to fight, but I had to. And…I had to do some awful things.” “Oh Gabe.” Her fingers stroked the side of his neck. “Houses and apartments were ransacked or burnt down. Civilians were rounded up and captured, sometimes beaten or killed. Men and women were separated. Many men were detained in camps. The camps were brutal―fathers forced to rape their daughters, or a son his mother. Prisoners were forced to perform oral sex on each other. Or on…us.” His voice cracked and he paused while he tried to control that feeling of pressure building up inside him that was going to coming exploding out of him, breaking him. The shame that burned in him, the guilt that burdened him.
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“It was all intended to destroy their dignity and any feeling of moral worth. I didn’t want to participate in it, but I was…young. My commanding officer told me what to do and anyone who refused to join the others was seen as a traitor to the unit, and to his Serbian blood. Those who refused were humiliated and in some cases…”He swallowed. “Castrated. I-I was forced to watch one of my fellow soldiers…one of my friends…be castrated.” Now he couldn’t speak, the horror and agony of that memory closing up his throat, making his head spin. “I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t…” Reagan made an inarticulate noise in her throat and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, holding him. Her heart thudded against him and he tried to breathe through burning pain streaking through his body. “Some were even killed,” he managed to continue. “I don’t know what makes people do such things. I can’t even explain why I did it, except I…wanted to live. My father died when I was young, and I suppose in some way I was looking to my commanding officer for approval, a father-son approval. It was like I was subordinating my conscience to be part of the group, a commitment to our purpose. Before the war broke out, we were told that Muslim men planned to force our women―possibly my mother, my sister―into harems, to breed soldiers for the jihad. How could I let that happen? So I had to be part of it. And when we all did such hideous things, we were all the same. It made it seem okay, because we were forced into a sort of brotherhood of guilt.” He paused, fighting for control of the rage and helplessness he was feeling all over again. “I escaped,” he said. “After they took my mother and my sister, I thought they were dead, and I didn’t care any more. I wanted to live, but I wasn’t going to fight any more. So I ran. I don’t know if it was cowardly or brave, but that’s what I did. I managed to come here and start a new life.” “Your mother…?” “She was actually still alive. Years later, I decided try to find out for sure what happened to them. My sister did die, but I found my mother. She’d been in a camp. I brought her here. She was so very strong. When I think of what she survived…how hard she fought. And then, lost the battle to fucking Alzheimer’s.” “You get your strength from her.” “I didn’t feel strong,” he said, his voice raspy. “I felt powerless and vulnerable. I swore I’d never feel like that again.” “That’s what led you to…BDSM?” “Maybe, partly. I have a dominant personality and I’d have that no matter what. But I did find something that I needed in BDSM. I tested my self control, knowing what was inside me. I could have a sense of power—but not abuse it. Ever. That was my personal threshold. That was my goal. To not be like them.” She lifted her head and held his face and kissed him, long and slow and sweet, and he felt the wetness on her skin, knowing some of it was his. Tears he’d never in his life shed. Fuck it, they were both crying. 155
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“Dominating someone challenges me mentally. You challenge me, Reagan―standing up to me, calling me out when I act like a jerk. Dominating someone also lets me be…caring. I love seeing a submissive learn about herself and grow…that gives me satisfaction.” “Helping someone,” she murmured. Huh. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess.” He bent his head. “I don’t feel completely at ease with very many people―some of the guys at work, the ones I’ve known a long time. They trust me. My mom trusted me. People at the club trust me. I’ve built a reputation there as someone who’s knowledgeable and ethical and responsible. I really only feel at ease with people who truly trust me. Being a dom allows me the freedom to just be the true me. To feel I deserve their trust.” “I trust you, Gabe.” “I know.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it, closing his eyes. “I know. I don’t know what happened lately, Reagan. I’d dealt with all that crap, I’d put it behind me. I started over and made sure that I was doing good things in my life to make up for all the awful things. I had no education other than my couple of years of university. I wanted to be an engineer. But I didn’t know enough English to go to school here, and I had to support myself, so I started working in construction. I worked hard to learn English and worked my way up. Then I took some business courses and decided to open my own company. I could do things for other guys who worked for me, guys who needed a little help. Helping other people helped me.” “You got married.” “Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose you want to hear about that too.” “You’re not telling me this because I want to hear it, Gabe. You’re telling me this because you want to.” “Yeah.” His heart swelled almost painfully at her insight. “I met Deena. She wasn’t into BDSM at all, and I’d only just started learning about it. When I told her what I wanted, she couldn’t handle it and she…couldn’t handle the truth about me. When I tried to explain why I was the way I was, what had happened in the war, she completely freaked out. She wouldn’t let me touch her. She didn’t want to have sex, even the most vanilla sex. She was afraid of me. Disgusted by me.” “Oh god. Oh my god.” Once more she pressed herself into him, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. “Oh, Gabe.” “I tried. I tried to be what she wanted. I couldn’t do it.” His voice caught. “After that I knew I wasn’t going to find the kind of happily ever after that the other guys had—my construction buddies who dated girls, got married, had kids. I found the club, and I found what I needed there.” “Including Tori.” “Yeah. For a while. I guess because we stayed together for a while, I thought I was in love with her. I already told you that I wasn’t.” His heart felt another stab, though, remembering Reagan’s claim that he wasn’t capable of loving. He had to show her that 156
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he was. He had to. “I think maybe my ego was beaten up a bit by that. I convinced myself that caring about people, falling in love, is the worst kind of submission, and…well, you already know I swore I was never going to be vulnerable like that again.” “But you are.” He couldn’t speak, didn’t want to acknowledge the truth in what she said, though he’d come to realize it himself. “You loved your mother,” she whispered, fingertips brushing his jaw. “I know you were hurting when she died, even though you wouldn’t admit it. And you clearly love Lucy. Look at how upset you are about that.” “She’s a dog.” “It’s okay, Gabe. It’s okay to love. It doesn’t matter if it’s a dog.” Once again a fist squeezed his throat and he couldn’t breathe. His heart threatened to explode right out of his chest. Yes, he’d loved his mother. Yes, he loved his dog. But not like he loved her. “With you, Reagan,” he finally whispered. “I’m most vulnerable with you.”He tugged her hair to lift her head from the crook of his neck so they could look each other in the eyes. “I love you, Reagan.” Her face went soft, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes shiny, tears still gleaming on her smooth cheeks. “Oh, Gabe. I love you too. I wish you had told me all this sooner.” “How could I tell you? I was afraid you’d hate me. Be afraid of me.” “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. “Never. I’m afraid of some things, yes…and I’m working on being brave about those things. I’m afraid of my feelings for you. I’m afraid about what you want from me. But I’m not afraid of you.” He crushed her against him, his mouth hard on hers, kissing the breath out of her until they both broke apart, gasping. He palmed her face, touched her hair, kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her cheek, her jaw. “Reagan, oh, Reagan. I don’t want you to be something you’re not. I know what that’s like. But I see something inside you…I think I can give you pleasure. I don’t want to control your life. Yes, I want to look after you, but I respect your independence. There’s a difference between caring and control.” She gazed back at him and slowly nodded. “Yes. There is.” “I admire what you’ve done. I love your strength. I won’t try to take over.“ “Thank you.” She held his gaze with warm eyes. “I know now…there is a difference between caring and control. And on top of that, I’m a different person than I was…before. I’m stronger. I know what I’m capable of. And nobody can take that away from me.” “God, no. Never. I would never want to. But just let me show you how good it can be…how much stronger you can be…” “I told you once before,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “I will. I trust you and I want it…but I want to give that to you, too.” 157
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He closed his eyes briefly, a flash of alarm heating his veins. “I trust you, Gabe. Do you trust me?”
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Chapter Twenty “You think you know what I need,” she whispered. “But I think I know what you need.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She kissed his jaw, rubbed her face against his. “Why do you think it’s weak?” “I know it’s not weak. I’ve taught many submissives that. Submitting takes strength and courage and trust. I know it’s not weak. But…” “You’re scared.” He said nothing, and she knew how much he didn’t want to admit to being afraid. She pressed herself against him and kissed his mouth again. “It’s important to me,” she murmured. He went very still. “Do it for me,” she continued, kissing his cheek. “Give that to me. Let me give that to you. Do you trust me, Gabe?” She drew back to look into his eyes. His long dark eyelashes swept up and he met her eyes. Time spun out around them as they sat there and she waited. “Yes,” he groaned. “I trust you.” She slid off his lap and rose to her feet, held out a hand to him. He took it and stood and she led him to her bedroom. With the blinds drawn, shadows dimmed the room. The music from her living room was only faintly audible there and they again turned to face each other, standing in the middle of her bedroom. Uncertainly trickled down her spine. She wanted to do this for him, but this was so far outside her experience. She was completely going on instinct and wasn’t even sure what she was going to do. She slid her arms under his T-shirt and up over his chest, pushing the shirt up. He lifted his arms so she could remove it, revealing the dark tufts of hair beneath his arms, so male and sexy. She tossed the shirt aside and laid her palms on his chest. “I should have showered,” he said gruffly. “I was working outside and I got all sweaty and dirty. Then I ran out of the house with Lucy.” He did have a smudge of dirt on his face, and dirt on his hands. He smelled deliciously male and musky. “You are dirty,” she murmured. But she smiled and his mouth curved too in response. Her gaze dropped to the waistband of the baggy cargo shorts he wore low on his hips and she blinked. Then she slowly unbuckled the belt there and tugged the buckle end of it, dragging it through the loops and off him. She studied the leather belt and then looked back up at him. 159
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His eyes went dark, navy blue, and his breathing quickened. But he said nothing. She laid the belt over one of her shoulders as she unzipped his shorts. They fell to the floor and she nibbled her bottom lip as she saw his underwear, soft black boxer briefs that molded his hips and cupped a rapidly swelling erection. She swallowed, and went to her knees. “Reagan…” He groaned her name. She pressed her face against the soft cotton-covered bulge and rubbed it there, inhaling the scent of him. She reached around him to cup his ass cheeks and then turned her face into him and kissed his cock through the underwear. She kissed and nibbled and he grew and hardened even more beneath her touch. A thrill ran through her. And then she opened her mouth and set her teeth on him. He froze and sucked in a sharp breath. His hands landed on her head and she shook her head. “No,” she said. “Hands at your sides.” It took several seconds for him to obey her, but he did, his hands dropping, fingers curled into fists. She smiled and again closed her teeth onto his cock, biting down so gently through the fabric, loving the feel of his firm flesh beneath her teeth. His cock twitched. “Christ,” he muttered. She smiled. She tucked her fingers into the elastic band of the briefs and lowered them, just a little, exposing a hint of the dark hair at his groin. She kissed his stomach there, fondled his cock and balls through the underwear again. She loved how that felt, how snug and swollen his balls were, how big his cock was, all sheathed in soft cotton. She lowered the briefs a little more, exposing more, and then a little more, tucking them beneath his cock which sprang up, right up to his belly. “So beautiful,” she murmured, touching her index finger to the smooth head. “I love your cock.” He made a small strangled sound and his hands flexed again at his sides. “You can do it,” she purred. “Control. Right Gabe?” “Fuck.” She pulled his underwear down over his thick thighs, and let them too drop to the floor. He pushed them and the cargo shorts aside and planted his feet apart. Dark hair dusted his sculpted legs, his bulging thigh muscles, sinewy calves, all the way down to the tops of his long, elegant feet. She knelt there, and her eyes ran up over his body, taking in the rigid belly muscles, his chest rising and falling with short rapid breaths, his parted lips and dark hazy eyes. “I would love to suck you,” she whispered, curling her fingers around his shaft and cupping his balls with her other hand. She kissed the tip of his cock where it was so soft, a drop of moisture gleaming there. “But…turn around.” Again, he blinked at her and didn’t move for long seconds. She waited patiently. Then his feet moved and he turned his back to her.
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Another beautiful view, his ass tight and round, dimples at the base of his spine, all kinds of muscles delineated in his wide upper back and shoulders. She traced her fingers over his ass cheeks, down the back of his thighs, as he’d done to her, giving her such incredible pleasure. He might not be as sensitive there as she was, but…somehow she had a feeling not many people had touched him there. “This is about you,” she said, and leaned forward and kissed the small of his back. She let her tongue dart out to lick his salty-tasting flesh, then kissed lower, on each firm cheek, even taking a soft nip. He jerked. Her fingers played up the crease between his cheeks and he shuddered. “Bend over,” she told him. “Put your hands on the dresser.” “Reagan…what…?” “Do you trust me, Gabe?” He groaned again. “Yeah.” And he bent over and set his hands on the edge of her oak dresser, the knuckles going pale. She nudged his legs farther apart. “Oh wow.” This was incredible. Heat spiked inside her at seeing him like this, his balls hanging between his legs, so full and heavy, the skin taut. She reached through his legs for his cock, letting her thumb rub and tease his perineum and puckered hole, wringing another strangled gasp from him. She pulled his cock back between his legs to kiss it. He made inarticulate noises deep in his throat almost like feral growls and she hoped it meant he enjoyed that touch. He was so hard…almost bursting. It had to mean he liked it. His head dropped forward, hanging from his shoulders as she played with him there, with his testicles, his cock, his perineum, teasing and letting her fingernails scrape him with subtle pressure. “Oh, Gabe, my god, I love this.” He grunted. She rolled her lips in briefly then rose to her feet. His leather belt still hung over her shoulder, soft and well-worn, and she slid it off, gripping it by the buckle. Damn, she had no idea how to do this. She didn’t want to really hurt him. She’d have to be careful, so careful, but something urged her on, something elemental and instinctive inside her. She stepped back, judged the distance between her and his body. His shoulders shook a little and she paused. Her eyes burned and her chest constricted. “Okay, Gabe?” she asked him as he’d asked her when he’d been spanking her with the cane. “Y-yeah.” She knew how hard this was for him. How much he must be fighting this inside him, how hard he must be fighting for control, to not turn around and grab the belt from her hand…and probably use it on her. She inhaled oxygen deep into her lungs, searching for strength and calm.
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She was right handed, so she took a step to the left to give her a better angle, lifted the belt in the air and brought it down across his ass. His body jolted as if he’d stuck his finger in a live socket and his head lifted, but he made no sound. She eyed his flesh, saw a faint pink mark arising. She swallowed through a suddenly dry throat, adrenaline racing through her veins, her hands just a little unsteady. She had to be in control. Too much adrenaline could be bad, could make her hit him harder than she intended. She needed control as much as he did. She raised the belt again and slapped the back of his thighs. Okay. She breathed. Not too hard. Trying not to hit the same place twice, she whipped the belt back and forth across his back, his shoulders, his ass, again, in quick succession. He still made no noise but his head went farther back, his body taut, every muscle standing out. His ass cheeks clenched so hard there were indentations in them. She wanted to stop. This was harder than she’d thought. Her vision blurred with tears and she squared her shoulders, took a breath in, then out. Just a little more. She knew somehow that he could take it, that she hadn’t yet gone as far as he needed. She didn’t want to break him―she only wanted to break down those walls he’d built around his emotions. She didn’t know how she would know when that had happened, just had to trust her instincts. Where this was all coming from she had no idea, but something inside her needed to do this, needed to give this to him with a deep, visceral necessity. She flicked the belt again, twisting her wrist one way, then the other. One more. One more. One more. Again she stopped, panting, and studied his flesh. She’d reddened it, in stripes that spread into one another, but it didn’t look that bad…no raised welts. What did she know? Maybe she should have hit harder. But really, hurting him wasn’t the point. The point was making him feel…something. Anything. Even mild pain was something and the fact that he’d submitted to this was the most important thing. That he’d trusted her, that he’d given this gift to her so she could in turn give it back to him. Understanding washed over her, an instinctive comprehension of what had just happened, of the gift submission was that she could give to him, and the gift his domination was in return. Tears ran down her face and she dropped the belt and stepped up to him, pressing her body against his. She leaned over his back, wrapped her arms around his big chest and sobbed against him. “Gabe, oh my god, Gabe.” He straightened immediately, loosened her arms around him and spun around, wrapping her up against his chest. He kissed her and his face was wet too, tears gleaming in the dark stubble on his jaw. Their mouths fused and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, into the back of his neck as she clung to him, tried to climb up on his body to get close enough. When the kiss ended, she pressed her face to his neck, both of them still holding each other so fiercely she could hardly breath. “Are you okay?” she whispered. “No,” he groaned. “Christ, Reagan, no. I need to be inside you, now.” 162
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“Yes. Now. Do it.” His hands slid beneath her ass and she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his hips. His hard cock slid into her and she cried out. “Yes. Oh god, yes. Gabe…” “I love you, Reagan.” He pushed up into her, filling her, fucking her, hitting that spot inside her, his pubic bones bumping against her clit. She shifted slightly to get just the right pressure and there it was, exploding inside her in a sharp, hot climax, and she shuddered through each wrenching spasm. He came fast too, holding her ass, pumping into her in short hard strokes, going very still, his fingers digging into her flesh with bruising pressure. His groans sounded almost painful as liquid heat filled her pussy.
***** They showered together, with lots of leisurely washing and kissing and slippery stroking, and then climbed into her bed where they moved together again, legs twined, arms holding each other. Gabe’s mind spun, his body tingled everywhere, his heart felt like it was swelling up so big in his chest it was going to explode. He’d been so fucking terrified, terrified about what that would do to him, of what would come out of him. So afraid it would set free all the things inside him he’d been locking up for so long. And it had. But not the monster he’d been afraid of. He hadn’t retaliated, fought back, lost control so he could take control. He’d given into it, relished the sensation, the pain, the edginess of it, made himself feel it, let it replace the pain he’d carried around inside him for so long that had served no useful purpose other than to scare him into building walls. Which meant he couldn’t feel the good things, either—the satisfaction of giving, the pleasure of receiving, the absolute joy and sweetness of loving. “I love you, Reagan.” He kissed her silky hair, breathed in her scent. “I’m never letting you go now.” “Mmm. I love you too.” “So you have to be okay with this. You have to.” “Oh, I have to, do I.” But he felt her smile against his chest. “And do I have to go to that sex club with you?” “Yes.” She smacked his shoulder. “Why?” He grinned. “Because I said so.” She gave him another light cuff, her body shaking against his with laughter. Christ. Laughing. They were making jokes and laughing in bed about stuff he’d taken way too seriously. He closed his eyes against a wave of intense gratification and love for her.
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“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said softly, hand curling around her wrist to stop her from pummeling him. “Maybe some day you’ll want to go there. But we don’t have to. We have everything we need right here—each other.” “Mmm. I might be a little…curious.” After a moment, he asked, “Did you get something from that, too?” “Yes. I did. I think I understand better.” She paused. “I don’t want to do that all the time.” He chuckled. “Neither do I.” “I know I have a lot to learn.” “We both do. God, we both do.” His arms tightened around her. “I’d lost sight of the fact that the journey never really ends. There’s always more to learn. You’ve made me learn so much about myself, Reagan.” He tugged her hair and her head came up, her eyes melting toffee surrounded by long eyelashes, her mouth soft and beautiful. He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her then, trying to pour all he could into the kiss, all the emotion he felt inside that he still wasn’t sure how to express. But he could show her. She was sweet, everywhere, her taste, her smell, her warm personality. She kissed him back, her mouth opening beneath his, her little tongue stroking his. He kissed her more, bit softly at her lips, sucked her tongue into his mouth. Her hips moved against him in a barely there rhythm of need, and the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat set him on fire. Her nipples hardened and pressed against his chest. Her hands were on him too, rubbing his chest in a way that sent sparks zipping through his veins, heating him up even more, through his veins right to his dick, which had surged to life again between them. She opened her thighs so he could slip between them and he thrust there a little, just between her legs, not inside her, not yet. So good. So fucking sweet. He rolled her to her back, mouth still joined to her, so he could slide one hand up her body and cup one of her sweet breasts, so soft, so lush. It filled his hand perfectly, absolute perfection. He lowered his mouth to her breast and tugged her nipple into his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, and she writhed beneath him, arching her back, pushing herself up to his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, scraped across his scalp and more sizzles cascaded over his skin. He growled. She just wouldn’t give up on hurting him. Then he almost smiled, his mouth still closed over her nipple. She liked to make him feel things, and yet he knew she would never really hurt him. He trusted her, and she challenged him, every time, and he had to admit he’d never loved the thrill of a challenge more than with her. His throat constricted and he bent his head, his heart pounding, taking a moment to get control of his emotions. And then he paused. Why was he hiding his feelings from her? She’d seen him at his most vulnerable. So he lifted his head and stared into her face.
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She gazed back at him, and her expression shifted and her eyes flickered as she took him in. Her hands came to his head, his face, a tender smile curving her lips, and he swallowed hard at the love and respect and devotion he saw there. “I don’t know how to say it,” he choked out. “Other than I love you, Reagan.” She stroked his hair and his rough cheek and he turned his mouth into her palm and kissed it, closing his eyes. Then he knew what he had to say to her. “Reagan.” He looked at her and her eyes focused on him. “I don’t want to own you or control you. I want to care for you, and look after you but I want to tell you that…I will spend my life encouraging you. Making you stronger. And in doing that I know you’ll make me a better man.” His words were like a sacred vow and her eyes glowed. “Gabe. Thank you. We’ll make each other better. I love you too.” Her gaze held his, her words too like a vow, a promise. “I love your strength, your honor. I love how unselfish you are and how you repay my trust in you with care. I love how you found the strength to be vulnerable with me when I know how much it scared you.” “Sweetheart. I could say the same to you. I know you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable again.” Admiration and pride expanded inside him. She nodded, eyes full of love and worship. “Thank you.” “We both have to be willing to surrender,” he whispered, moving over her, between her legs. He took his weight on his elbows, arms beside her head on the pillow, hands in her hair. “I know that now.” She raised her knees, her hands coming up to his shoulders, and he pushed inside her, wet and slow and lovely, a long glide of exquisite pleasure, heat rushing through his body. His chest clenched, emotions swirling inside him, his balls so tight, pressure building. His body moved against hers, their eyes connected, her lips parted as she breathed in short little bursts that he felt warm on his lips. He filled her again and again, lost in her, lost in love with her, wanting this to go forever. She moved beneath him, seductive and soft and welcoming, fingers playing across his shoulders. “Oh,” she sighed. “Oh my god, Gabe. It feels so…” “Yeah, so…” He changed his position a little and she pulled her knees higher to accommodate him and her breath hitched as she found what she needed. They rocked together, heat building, her eyes glazing, small whimpers coming from her throat. “So good,” she whispered. “So good…uh.” Her eyes squeezed closed and he watched her, watched the flush steal over her cheeks, her teeth sink into her plush bottom lip. Sensation burned and twisted inside him, an explosion of heat and light, and he pushed into her one last time and stayed there as he finished, pouring himself into her literally and figuratively. He made a low guttural sound, his hands tightening in her hair, then dropped his forehead to the pillow beside her, lungs screaming, muscles quivering. She pulsed around him in small ripples that nearly sent him over again. 165
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“Christ, Reagan. Jesus Christ.” The most intense scenes of his life had never been that powerful, that moving. And he knew all the preaching he’d done to other people about how intensely intimate a Dom/sub relationship could be had been nothing but bullshit. Because he’d never really known that until this moment. Until Reagan. Until he’d felt love. The exchange didn’t have to be equal. It was…fluid. How power flowed depended on the people—who they were, their relationship, their feelings for each other. What they needed at that moment. Power shifted, and balanced, and shifted again in a neverending flow, back and forth, giving and receiving.
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Epilogue Gabe wrapped his arms around Reagan from behind, crowding her up against the counter in his kitchen. He bent his head and nuzzled her hair, the fresh fruity-floral scent of it filling his head, her body soft and warm against his. She went still, holding the wine bottle she’d just pulled out of the refrigerator, and tipped her head back. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Mmm. Love you too.” She turned her head and he found her mouth with his, warm and sweet. “Hey.” A deep voice spoke behind them. “Come on now. We’re waiting for more wine out here.” Gabe turned his head and shot Dev a grin. “Back off, bud. We’ll be there in a minute.” Dev laughed and disappeared back to the dining room. “They’re making out in there,” Gabe heard him tell the others, Tara and Joe and Tori. “We’d better get them their wine,” Reagan said. “They’re getting unruly.” “Let them wait.” Gabe kissed the side of her neck, slow and open-mouthed, letting his tongue slide along her soft skin. She shivered in his arms. “Gabe…” He loved the heated, breathy way she said his name. “Thanks for such a nice dinner,” he said with one last drag of his tongue over her neck. He stepped back and she turned, their bodies still touching. “You helped,” she said with a smile. She went up on her toes and smooched his mouth. “It was our dinner. And I’m having so much fun.” “Me too.” Who would’ve thought he’d be hosting a dinner party at his house with Tori and Dev, and Tara and Joe. Well, he and Reagan were hosting it together. She spent so much time at his place now she might as well be living there. He wanted her living there. “I still want to marry you, Reagan.” She smiled at him. “I know.” He’d been asking her to marry him for months. She hadn’t said no. But she hadn’t said yes either. He understood. He understood her need to be sure, to be sure that she wasn’t going to lose herself in their relationship, to be sure that he wasn’t going to take over everything. “I need you in my life. I want you living here with me.” At a soft whining sound, they both looked down. “And Lucy.”
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He laughed. “Yeah, and Lucy.” The little dog sat and smiled up at them, her pink tongue lolling happily from her mouth. “You need all the attention, don’t you, Luce?” Reagan turned her beautiful eyes back to him. “Oh, Gabe. I swore I’d never get married again.” His gut clenched. “Haven’t I showed you?” he murmured. “Yes.” She laid her palm on his cheek. Her smile eased his brief moment of fear “You’ve pushed me to do things. Hard things.” “Like making friends with Tori and Dev.” “Yes.” “That was hard for both of us.” Her smile deepened. “I know. And I love you for that.” “You encourage me too, Reagan.” They’d pushed each other’s limits―in the bedroom, in the playroom, and in life. He’d encouraged her to speak up at work when that asshole Ross had been bugging her, instead of showing up at her office himself and force feeding that bastard his own balls. He’d encouraged her to invite her parents to visit, knowing how she dreaded dealing with their protective concern. And he’d supported her through that, letting her deal with them and not taking over. She’d made him do hard things too, like talk about his childhood, his family, his life in Bosnia, and the war. She’d made him do hard things like admit his feelings. She’d made him do hard things like give up control. Except with her, it wasn’t so hard after all, because he trusted her more than anyone. “There’s something we need to talk about,” she said. He took in the seriousness of her eyes, the set of her mouth. “What?” Her eyes dropped briefly, then met his. “Children. Babies.” He went very still as her words sunk in. Children. Babies. Whoa. “You want to have a baby?” he asked carefully. “This isn’t the time to have this discussion.” She glanced meaningfully toward the dining room where their guests were talking and laughing. “Oh hell yeah, it is.” He gently turned her face back toward him with his fingertips. “You want to have a baby?” “I…I’m not sure.” She bit her lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I never thought I’d get married again, so I never thought it would be an option. But it’s something I’ve been thinking about. I probably wasn’t ready to have a baby before…but now I know who I am and what I can do…and I love you. I want to have your baby, Gabe.” His heart squeezed hard, then swelled up so big and hot in his chest he almost couldn’t breathe. That was something he never thought he’d have, but now, more in tune with his feelings than he’d ever been, he recognized the faint emptiness that thought had always
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brought on. Could that really be something he could have? Would that really be one more thing she could give him, after she’d given him so, so much? He cleared his throat. “I’m pretty old to be a dad,” he said. She gave him a soft smile. “I’m pretty old to be a mom. I don’t know if it’s even possible, honestly. But I thought you should know that before I say I’ll marry you.” “Is that a deal breaker?” She held his gaze steadily. “No.” He nodded. “Me either.” He thought about it again. “I’m not sure how good of a father I’d be, but…I’d like to try.” Her expression cleared, eyes shiny, her smile incandescent. “Oh, Gabe. You’ll be a great father.” “So you’ll marry me?” he said again. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you.” Relief and joy surged through his bloodstream and he closed his eyes in gratitude and adoration. “I made you a promise before,” he said, his voice coming out husky. “And I will keep it for you.” “I know. I trust you Gabe. He kissed her again, slow and soft. “Seriously, dude.” Dev spoke from the door again. “We’re still waiting.” Gabe turned once more, this time releasing Reagan, and took in Dev’s boyish grin where he leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest. Tori appeared behind him, so tiny she ducked under Dev’s arm. “What’s going on? Are they still at it?” Gabe smiled at Tori. In the last few months, Reagan’s friendship with Tori had deepened despite his and Tori’s prior relationship, and had gotten to the point where he and Reagan were comfortable enough to want all four of them―Dev and Tori, her and Gabe―to socialize together. They’d gotten to know Joe and Tara better, too, on a social level as well as doing business with them, the construction of the new office and tasting room out in the valley well underway. Then Tara and Joe pushed their way into the kitchen so that all six of them were standing there. “Geez, can’t a guy propose to a woman in peace without people barging in?” Gabe grumbled. After a few seconds of shocked silence, the women squealed with delight and rushed at them. Dev and Joe exchanged a look. “I believe I win that wager,” Dev said with a grin. Tori and Tara hugged them both, laughing, talking, and Dev and Joe strode forward to shake his hand and slap his back. It still astonished Gabe how much he liked Dev, how mature and rock-solid he was despite being so much younger than him. He’d
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known from the first time he’d met Dev that he was perfect for Tori and now, having spent more time with them together, he knew it even more. And that made him happy. He accepted congratulations from his new friends, his heart expanding in his chest, happiness spreading inside him, a crazy grin popping out on his face. “Okay, get that wine open!” Tara said. “Too bad we don’t have champagne.” Gabe’s eyes met Reagan’s as he took the bottle of wine and the corkscrew from her, and more joy and satisfaction rose inside him. As he worked the cork out of the bottle of Merlot, Reagan bent and picked up Lucy, hugging her small furry body, letting the pup give her chin a little lick. He loved how Reagan loved Lucy. Hell, he loved everything about her. “Okay we need to plan all these weddings,” Tara said with a smile. “We’ve set our date. Now it’s up to you all.” Tori held out her left hand to admire the brand new sparkling diamond ring there, then looked up at Dev with a smile and a lifted eyebrow. “I told you,” he said. “We can get married tomorrow.” Her smile widened. “Okay.” His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Bullshit. You want a wedding.” “I do,” she agreed, stepping toward him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I don’t want you to pay for it,” he muttered. “It doesn’t have to be big. I think we should get married at Le Château.” Dev choked and she laughed. “Kidding.” “Thank Christ. I mean, I don’t mind going there once in a while, but Jesus…not for our wedding.” “Picture the wedding dress,” Tara said with a laugh. “Oh my god, the images that come to mind.” Gabe laughed too, amazed that he could be so lighthearted about something he’d taken so seriously. Yeah, he wouldn’t want to get married at Le Château either, although he didn’t want a big wedding. The only people he’d want at his wedding were right here in this room. Well, and maybe some of the guys from work. Of course Reagan would want her parents there. He smiled. They’d figure it out. They all moved back into the dining room where Gabe poured the wine, and he watched the others all pick up their glasses to make a toast. Then the women resumed chatting about weddings, the men watching them with wry smiles. A feeling of warmth and affection for these people swept over him. They had so much in common, the unique nature of their relationships giving them a shared bond and a deeper connection than he’d ever really known with anyone. And he had all this because of Reagan, who’d given him more than he ever thought he’d have in his life. Family. Friendship. Trust. Acceptance. And love.
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About the Author Kelly Jamieson is the author of several sexy romance novels. Her writing has been described as “blisteringly sexy” and “a spicy delicious read”. If she can stop herself from reading or writing, she loves to cook. She has shelves of cookbooks that she reads at length. She also enjoys gardening in the summer, and in the winter she likes to read gardening magazines and seed catalogues. She also loves shopping, especially for clothes and shoes. But her family takes precedence over everything else (yes, even writing). She has two teenage children who are the best kids in the world, not that she’s biased, and a wonderful husband who does loads of laundry while she plays on the computer writing stories. She loves hearing from readers. Kelly welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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