No, he'd never forgive Brian that. Alison had worked so hard, done endless double shifts as a cleaner to scrimp and save so her kids would never go without as she had, and in a single selfish act, Brian Bishop had shoved her into her own private hell.
Alison might have the heart to forgive him, but Gabriel wasn't that good; as far as he was concerned, Brian Bishop could stay out in the fucking cold.
Charlotte knew something was wrong the instant Gabriel walked back into the office. He had a temper and she'd seen him angry before, but never like this. Expression dark, he walked past her without a word, and over the next half hour didn't even growl at her once for a document or a file.
Worried, she went to the break room and poured him a glass of milk. Then, taking an apple-cinnamon danish from the airtight container of goodies she'd brought with her from her cooking class, she put it on a saucer and carried both into his office. Placing them on his desk when he didn't look up from his work, she headed back out.
It was fifteen minutes later that she heard an incredulous "Milk?" from inside.
Her lips tugged up, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. "It's good for you."
Coming to the doorway, he bit into the pastry with its flawlessly glazed top and delicate filling. It had taken Charlotte three tries to get it exactly right, and she'd given him that third, perfect attempt.
"Mmm." A deep sound of pleasure that melted things inside her it had no business melting. "This is fucking amazing." His throat moved as he swallowed before taking another bite.
Charlotte jerked her attention away from the strong, kissable column of his neck before he saw her staring. "Was everything okay with your mom?" she asked quietly, knowing she didn't have the right to poke her nose into his personal business, but worried about him.
"Yes. Some family stuff." He finished off the danish and licked up a bit of glazing that had come off on his thumb.
Charlotte's breath just stuck in her chest. It was so unfair how he could look like raw male temptation while eating a goddamn pastry. Which she'd given him. So she was responsible for her own torture. But it was worth it to see the shadows fade from his expression, his shoulders no longer so tense.
"Why don't you ask me?"
She felt her eyes widen. Had he realized she was imagining him naked in bed while she fed him pastries and licked up the crumbs from his chest? Good God. "What?" she managed to get out.
"Why I dated Tiffany in the first place."
Air escaped her in a quiet rush. Making a face at him, she said, "I think the letter D had something to do with it."
Throwing back his head, he laughed. "I like it when you let your snark out, Ms. Baird." Still grinning, he said, "In point of fact, I wanted to buy a property she owned and dinner was the only time she'd talk to me about it."
Charlotte's mouth fell open. "Are you telling me the Bishop was forced into a date?" She humphed. "Right."
"I needed to eat, so why not?" His eyes gleamed. "I now have the property and my business association with Ms. Summer is complete."
"Not a T-Rex?" she said sweetly. "I see some very sharp teeth."
His smile deepened until the stupid melting inside her started up all over again. "Never for you, Ms. Baird." Walking back into the office and thankfully missing her blush, he said, "Let's get this done so we can both have the night free at least."
Five o'clock and the deal was done. By six, Charlotte should've been at home. Instead, she found herself standing in front of Gabriel's apartment door, not quite sure how she'd ended up there.
Tired but exhilarated at their success, she'd been putting on her coat when Gabriel had unexpectedly taken her up on her offer to teach him how to make a pasta sauce that would impress his girl. Since it would've been churlish and too revealing of her own feelings to refuse, especially after she'd already admitted her exciting plans for the night amounted to a DVD and possibly some further pastry experimentation, she'd stupidly said yes.
She didn't even know why she'd made that offer in the first place. Maybe to beat it into her thick skull that he could never be hers. Gabriel accepting the offer? That she hadn't predicted--and as a result, she now stood three feet from the door to his apartment, the two of them having stopped off at the grocery store to pick up ingredients.
Her pulse raced, cheeks burning as her abdomen clenched. This time it wasn't for the reason that had given her such scandalous pleasure this morning. She wasn't comfortable being alone with a man in his home--this was the first time she'd been in this situation since Richard. However, as Gabriel keyed them in using the touchpad on the side of the door, she remembered Molly's words.
"Be happy."
Taking a deep breath, she told herself to cross the threshold when he pushed the door open. Gabriel had never done anything to make her feel unsafe.
But Richard had been like that too. At the start.
Her heart slammed into her throat at the whispered reminder from the girl she'd once been, her skin going ice-cold, and her lungs struggling for air. She fought to calm herself using every technique she knew.
She failed.
Stumbling away from the door, blindingly aware of the watchful steel of Gabriel's gaze, she fell back against the corridor wall. The words she wanted to speak wouldn't come, her throat choked up with the ugly, metallic emotion that had once again turned her into a quivering coward.
15
T-Rex Sets a Trap for Charlie-mouse
Wrenching his violently protective response under control because anger was the last thing Charlotte needed, Gabriel put the paper bag full of groceries on the floor and pulled the apartment door shut. The despair he glimpsed in the clear hazel of her eyes made him want to punch something; it took conscious effort of will to keep a handle on his temper.
It wasn't directed at Charlotte but at the person who'd hurt her. If he ever got his hands on the piece of shit, whoever it was wouldn't have any unbroken bones left in his body.
"Let me take you to dinner," he said, wanting to walk over to her, haul her close, keep her safe. The idea of anyone putting a hand on her, a bruise... His hand fisted by his side. Exhaling quietly, he worked hard to keep his tone as gentle as he could make it. "You can teach me the recipe over a glass of wine."
Eyes wet, Charlotte looked away, her shoulders slumping. He'd never seen her like this--shy or not, Charlotte had held her own against him since the day he'd forced a promotion on her. This was breaking her, he realized. And he was responsible for manipulating her into this situation, into this position.
Not only had he wanted her in his personal territory, he'd just wanted her with him. Earlier, her quiet, thoughtful care had wiped away the gut-churning anger that had gripped him after his discussion with his mother. His and Charlotte's resulting conversation had made him remember that he wasn't that lost, angry boy anymore but a man who had a beautiful, smart, deliciously sexy woman in his life. It had been selfish, but he'd wanted more of her warmth and sweetness around him.
Because of that, he'd caused her pain. Him. No one else. So he had to find a way to fix it. "Remember how I told you I have three brothers?" It had been during a late-night work session, after the two of them broke for coffee. "Sailor, Jake, and Danny."
She didn't lift her head, but he knew she was listening.
"Well," he said, "two of them are fathers, both of little girls." Tiny, fragile creatures he couldn't believe his rough-and-tumble siblings had helped create. "I babysit about once every month."
She raised her head at last, a shaky smile tugging at her lips. "Really?"
The fist squeezing blood from his heart loosened a fraction.
"Hold on." Stepping inside his apartment, he returned holding a sparkly pink purse smaller than the size of one of his palms, and an enthusiastic hand-drawn card that had the words "I love you, Uncle Gabe" spelled out painstakingly if crookedly in purple glitter pen, what looked like rugby balls raining from big, fluffy clouds.
"I didn't know rugby balls had smil
ey faces." Charlotte's own smile grew deeper.
"Esme thinks they should, since they're so much fun." His five-year-old niece was a ruthless machine on the rugby field, having inherited the family love for the game as well as their competitive streak.
Stepping close, Charlotte took the card, traced the glittery writing with open affection. "They adore you."
"I let them run roughshod over me, so yeah." He dared touch a finger to her cheek. "Want me to pick them up to play chaperone? Their parents would love a night off."
"No," she said softly, her smile fading to leave her eyes stark in a face that was still too pale. "I'm sorry for acting this way. You've been nothing but professional."
Gabriel realized this was it. He could either take the risk or lie to her. "No, I haven't," he said after dropping the girls' things on the small table by the door where he usually left his car keys.
Charlotte's eyebrows drew together over her eyes. "What?"
"I've been flirting with you, Ms. Baird." He saw red paint her cheeks, but when she didn't put space between them, he continued. "I told myself I shouldn't since I'm your boss, but I'm afraid I didn't follow my advice."
When she still didn't say a word, he forced himself to make an offer he didn't want to make. "I know another CEO who needs a personal assistant of your skill."
"Are you firing me?" Sparks in those clear eyes, her hands fisting by her sides as if in readiness for battle.
"No, damn it." It came out a snarl, his attempt at good behavior dying a quick death now that she was his Ms. Baird again, tough and with a fiery spirit. "I'm telling you that if my interest makes you uncomfortable, you can move into another comparable position."
Her eyes narrowed. "That also removes the flirting with a subordinate issue for you."
"You're the best damn personal assistant I've ever had." His voice rose. "I have every intention of stealing you away from Saxon & Archer when I complete this contract."
That made her lips part in a quiet gasp before she folded her arms. "Doesn't change what I said."
"Of course it wouldn't make anything easier," he growled, infuriated by her stubborn refusal to see what he was trying to tell her. "The hours I work, when exactly do you think I'd have time to seduce you if you weren't working with me? I like you exactly where you are."
Glaring at him--though her cheeks remained that hot pink that made him want to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to the nearest bed to see how she tasted--she said, "I like my job."
It was the first time a personal assistant had said that about working with him. Most complained he was a bad-tempered slave driver. He wondered what Charlotte would think if he told her she was the only one who'd ever had the guts to push back, to tell him he couldn't have all her weekends and nights. Probably not believe him, she saw herself as so meek.
"Good," he said and then asked what he needed to know. "Are you going to sue me for sexual harassment if I keep flirting with you?" He had plans to go well beyond flirtation, but this was hurdle number one. And it wasn't a lawsuit he was worried about--it was whether his pursuit would scare Charlotte.
"Why are you flirting with me?"
The befuddled look in her eyes was adorable.
"Fishing for compliments?"
Her cheeks flushed hotter. Pushing up her spectacles and setting those soft pink lips in a prim line that just made him want to mess her up, she said, "Men like you don't go for women like me."
"How many men like me do you know?" he asked with a lingering look at her mouth. God but he wanted to kiss Charlotte, wanted to feast on her. Every part of her.
Breasts swelling against her bra and skin tight under the molten silver of Gabriel's gaze, Charlotte fought the urge to wet her lips. "You know what I mean." Her voice came out all breathy, her lungs struggling again for a far different reason than earlier.
"Do I?" He leaned in close enough that the hot kiss of his breath brushed her earlobe as he murmured. "I happen to find this particular small, smart, sexy package very, very attractive."
Small, smart, sexy.
Charlotte had been described with two of those words before. The unexpected addition made her head spin in disbelief. Except what did Gabriel have to gain from lying to her, from pretending he found her sexually enticing? He'd just had a demonstration of how screwed up she was--clearly not a fun conquest.
It wasn't as if he needed to hunt for notches on his bedpost. As displayed by Tiffany, women hunted him down. "Doesn't your girlfriend mind you flirting with other women?" she asked sharply before she forgot he was taken--as he clearly had.
"She's not mine yet." The last word was drawled out.
Wanting to slap herself for continuing to find the arrogant T-Rex attractive, she said, "I'll show you how to make the pasta sauce." Soon as that was done, she could go home and bake out her rage as she told Molly that T-Rex wasn't only a carnivore, he was a man who didn't value commitment when it came to a personal relationship.
Charlotte couldn't be with someone like that, even if he wasn't just messing with her for his own amusement.
Gabriel didn't get out of the doorway. "Not before you answer my question."
"No," she said through gritted teeth. "I won't sue you." She'd also not take anything he said or did seriously. A man who made a move on one woman, whom he'd asked to help him learn how to cook something to impress another woman, wasn't her idea of Prince Charming.
When his eyes glinted, lips curving in a slow and very male smile, she knew he intended to take full advantage of her acquiescence. "Come into my parlor, Ms. Baird."
How could he make her name sound like an indecent proposition? The tiny hairs on her nape prickling in an alarm that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with another emotion as visceral, she took a deep breath and stepped past him into the apartment.
The click of the door shutting behind her made her stomach knot, Gabriel's presence at her back a heated wall that blocked escape. As if he knew, he walked past her with the groceries. Following him, she gaped. She knew this building, had seen it countless times from the road. Built on a hilltop, it had sweeping views of both the city and the waters of the Hauraki Gulf. Apartments here went for millions.
Gabriel, she belatedly realized, had the penthouse.
They'd entered on the lower floor--a sprawling space that flowed out onto a large balcony. While she couldn't see it from here, she knew the second level opened out onto another, smaller balcony. Natural light came in via the generous use of glass as well as cleverly placed skylights. The view through the balcony doors, even from here, was spectacular.
"Just how rich are you?" she blurted out.
Gabriel had already put down the groceries and now paused in the act of removing his shoes. "If I use the word filthy in my answer, what'll that get me?"
Charlotte slapped her hands over her face, mortified. "Sorry, I'm sorry." She didn't know why she'd been so rude, especially when she should've guessed at his wealth. No one played professional sports at the highest level, had major international endorsement deals--some of which were still in play--then became a sought-after business executive without accumulating wealth. In addition, she'd watched him buy property after property for his personal portfolio. Of course he was filthy rich.
Strong, warm hands tugging her own from her face, his smile so gorgeous that for a second, she almost gave in to the madness inside her and kissed the boss.
Then he said, "You can make it up to me by teaching me to be a maestro in the kitchen."
Right. For another woman. That infuriating reminder poured ice water on her desire. "I'll get set up if you want to..." She waved vaguely in the direction of his clothes; unlike his casual clothes most weekends when they worked together, he'd worn a suit today because he'd had to videoconference with the lawyers on the other side of the negotiation.
Charlotte was still in the jeans and mint-green cardigan she'd worn to cooking class. Below the cardigan was nothing but a white camisole
with a lace edge. She hadn't thought she'd be this hot when she'd chosen the outfit that morning, hadn't thought she'd be all but pasted to Gabriel's furnace of a body.
She wanted to rub up against him like a cat.
Other woman, Charlotte! You are teaching him to cook for her!
The mental slap made her head ring as Gabriel headed to the hanging spiral staircase that led upstairs.
"Kick off your shoes," he said, "get comfortable."
"If I kick off my shoes, I'll need a megaphone to reach you," she muttered under her breath, but did in fact slip off her wedge-heeled slides, loathe to accidentally damage the warm-toned wood of the floor. Shoving up the sleeves of her cardigan, she padded over to his kitchen--separated from the living area only by a gleaming breakfast bar--and just sighed. The things she could cook in this kitchen.
Stroking the black granite of the freestanding central island, the stone streaked with gray minerals that had a faint shimmer, she took in the cooktop that blended into the counter against the wall, the inbuilt oven below sleek silver. When she gave in to temptation and opened a cupboard, the premium cookware inside made her want to whimper.
"Finding everything you need?"
Jumping, she shut the cupboard and turned to find him heading toward her. He'd changed into faded jeans and a gray T-shirt bearing the logo of the school whose rugby team he coached, the soft, well-washed fabric hugging his pecs as he moved toward her.
Gripping the counter behind her, she said, "I didn't mean to pry."
He looked up from taking the groceries out of the bag and the intricate ink on his left arm caught her eye. "Charlotte, knock yourself out. I have no idea what's in half the cupboards." She made a scandalized noise that had him laughing. "Yeah, it makes Isa--my sister-in-law--crazy too. She, my mom, and Jake bought all the kitchen stuff after taking my credit card. I think they were hoping to shame me into cooking more."
"Really," Charlotte said, itching to explore. "I can look?"
Gabriel waved a hand. "Tell me if you find the bottle opener. I don't know where they hid it."