"Yes," Gabriel said without hesitation. "Team's got a strict no-drugs policy." He then tore a strip off the player himself; the kid was an amazing fullback, might go all the way, but not if he fucked up.
He hung up after getting a genuinely contrite, "I'm sorry, Coach. I messed up." The boy was now aware that as a result of his error, his team might well lose its upcoming match against their greatest rivals; that knowledge would work more effectively as a deterrent than anything else.
Other than that interruption, the day involved challenge after challenge--exactly what Gabriel liked in business. Charlotte called in lunch that they both ate at their desks, then kept going. He would've pushed on if she hadn't booked a seven-o'clock appointment to view the sublet. Since there was no way he was about to let her do that alone, they headed out.
His building wasn't far from the office, and with rush hour having eased, it took them under ten minutes to make it there. Bringing the SUV to a stop in his parking space in the underground garage, he stepped out. Charlotte was already opening her door by the time he came around.
Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her out. "Do you realize we haven't said a single word to each other since we got in the elevator at work?"
Wrinkles formed between her eyebrows. "No, that's wrong... isn't it?" She tilted her head a little to the side. "It didn't feel like it."
"No, it didn't." He cupped her face, brushed back a strand of hair. "Ready to see the apartment?"
Charlotte's hand landed on his shirt. "What happened to your tie?" A scowl. "Wait, let me grab your jacket from the back."
Laughing, he drew her to the elevators. "Trust me. The owner's not going to care if I'm not professionally dressed." Not when Gabriel owned over a quarter of the apartments in the building. Unfortunately, that didn't include the sublet.
"At least roll down your sleeves."
"You're adorable when you scowl like that."
Expression darkening as they entered the elevator, she reached up and fixed his collar, then smoothed her hands down his chest in a petting, possessive move that made him want to stretch out and ask her to do it all over his body. When she said, "Bend down," he did so without complaining.
Slender fingers brushing through his hair. "There," she said, just as the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor.
He followed her out, delighted with her. He wasn't, however, taking anything for granted; after today's panic attack, he knew Charlotte herself didn't know when she might react negatively to something he said or did. The seeds of terror were hidden within her, could burst open at any time. But then he thought about how she'd quivered big-eyed at him during their first-ever dinner.
That mouse wouldn't have sat on his lap, wouldn't have ordered him to bend down so she could fix his hair, wouldn't have slipped her hand into his and curled her fingers over his palm.
Gabriel could be patient when the rewards were so great.
"Here, this one." Stopping in front of a door in the middle of the corridor, Charlotte knocked.
It opened seconds later, the middle-aged woman inside inviting them in. Turned out the apartment belonged to her daughter. "She got a temporary transfer to Dubai," the woman told them with a beaming smile. "The rules say she can do a sublet, so she might as well. It's only for six months though."
"That's perfect," Charlotte said, because no matter what, she wasn't about to live her life looking over her shoulder. The best-case scenario was that Richard had forgotten her. If he hadn't, then she'd work with Gabriel and the police to put him back in jail, this time for so long that he'd be an old man when he came back out.
"Gabriel?" she said, glancing around to see that he'd prowled to the windows. "What do you think?"
The owner's mother patted her hand. "I'll go make some coffee while you and your handsome husband discuss it."
"Yes," Gabriel said with a glint in his eye. "Come here, wife."
Flutters in her abdomen at his teasing, she waited until their host had left before saying, "So?"
"Pros--it's not ground level, and fourth floor is high enough that no one's going to be climbing up. Fire stairs are internal. Windows don't open and the door has solid locks."
"I'd get them changed," Charlotte said, knowing she'd feel better that way. "I'm sure the owner wouldn't mind if I get the same kind or a more secure model." Since Gabriel still looked grim, she said, "Cons?"
"It's not my apartment."
"Gabriel."
Brows drawing heavily together, he folded his arms. "Why are you wasting your money? I'm offering you free room and board and as much sex as you can handle."
"Hush!" She looked over her shoulder, but their host had the radio on in the kitchen nook and wasn't paying them any attention. "I'm taking the apartment."
"You'll ride to work and back with me."
"We can negotiate that." Charlotte folded her own arms. "Since I don't intend to turn into a workaholic who comes home at eleven every night."
That made him growl. "You used to be so compliant. What happened?"
"You did," she whispered, astonished by him all over again. "Come to dinner at my place?" She was finding it harder and harder to say good-bye to him.
28
In Which Gabriel Proposes Kitchen-Chair Sex
Leaving Gabriel going over a contract at her kitchen table, Charlotte disappeared into her bedroom to change. Once there, she couldn't figure out what to wear, finally just grabbing a pretty dress with a blue forget-me-not print against white that she'd bought several weeks earlier. It wasn't right for work, but casual enough for home with its square neck and lack of sleeves. Slipping her feet into fluffy yellow slippers she'd bought the same day she'd bought the purple "monster claw" ones for Molly, she was about to step out into the corridor when she realized her footwear wasn't exactly sexy. "Stop obsessing, Charlotte."
With that, she made her way to the kitchen to find Gabriel had spread work all over the table, his cell phone at his ear. As he spoke, she deduced the person at the other end of the line was the head of an international cosmetics brand Gabriel had convinced to be exclusive to Saxon & Archer in Australasia. The deal was a coup for the company, but it was sucking a lot of Gabriel's energy since the head of the cosmetics firm insisted on dealing directly with him rather than with Saxon & Archer's head of merchandising.
Biting back a laugh when Gabriel smoothly negotiated a clause favorable to Saxon & Archer, she went and chopped up two apples into four slices each and placed them in front of him along with a glass of milk. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and she knew how much energy he burned.
Winking at her he picked up a slice as he continued his conversation.
Wanting a quick but different meal, she put on some rice using the fuss-free cooker she and Molly had discovered in university, then pulled out a package of jumbo shrimp, and some fresh vegetables for a stir-fry. A hint of ginger, a dash of soy sauce, maybe a bit of spring onion, and it would be a delicious meal. She could also add in cashews for crunch.
"You really love cooking."
Looking over her shoulder to see that Gabriel had eaten most of the first apple, she smiled. "I do." Then, for the first time since Richard's attack, she brought it up while in this room. "I lost that love for two years after the attack. I managed to make myself come into the kitchen, put together basic meals, but I couldn't recapture the joy."
Gabriel's eyes iced over, but he didn't interrupt.
Having prepped everything for the stir-fry she'd make as the rice finished cooking, she began to put together a bowl of grapes and berries for dessert. "Then I had a really bad day at work. Anya," she said with a shrug. "She was being a snot. I was so mad I had to get it out, so I came in here and started baking." It had felt so good, so cathartic to be in here, doing what she loved, that the fear had been crushed under the sheer weight of it.
"You have Anya to thank for your breakthrough?"
Charlotte felt her shoulders shake. "God, yes." Apparently all that aggravat
ion had been worth it. "Every time I cook now, I feel like I've reclaimed another tiny part of myself."
Biting into another segment of apple, Gabriel said, "You ever thought about doing it professionally?"
"No--it's my outlet. I don't want it to be my job." And it wasn't as if being a chef was a low-stress occupation.
Gabriel nodded slowly. "I get that."
"I've been thinking," she said, "about going back to uni part-time and completing the extra papers I need to get a full degree." Not in any state to return to university after she came out of hospital, she'd nonetheless earned a diploma through correspondence courses. It had been enough to land her the job at Saxon & Archer. However working for Gabriel required far more intellectual rigor than her previous position, and she wanted to be able to keep up. "Do you think I should?"
"There're a couple of courses at the business school you might want to check out."
His phone rang before he could continue.
"Go on," she said when he didn't answer. "I have to make the stir-fry anyway." Hearing his voice as she worked, having his presence in the house, it felt really good. Growing up, she'd always dreamed of having a family--part of her had felt guilty for harboring such an old-fashioned dream, but that hadn't changed how she felt.
Living alone had been important for her self-confidence, but it wasn't her natural inclination. On the other hand, she didn't just want roommates; she wanted people who were her own, people she loved.
Gabriel put down the phone and rubbed at his eyes. Stir-fry done, Charlotte walked over, took his phone and switched it off, then dropped it into the cookie jar.
"I'm expecting a call." It was a growl.
"Not for the next couple of hours you're not." She began to gather up the papers he'd spread on the table. "You're off the clock while we eat dinner."
Expression dark, he rose to his feet.
She flinched.
"Damn it, Charlotte." Gabriel's hands fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Pulse thudding against her skin and mouth dry, she swallowed repeatedly. "I know." It came out a rasp.
But Gabriel was already going to the cookie jar to pull out his phone. Shoving his papers into the briefcase after he had it, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow at the office." His voice was as hard and as unwelcoming as stone.
"Gabriel, don't go." It came out shaky, desperate. "Please don't go."
He blew out a breath, dropped everything on the table. "Shit." Thrusting both hands through his hair, he held out an arm. "Come here."
She went, curling up against his chest, a tremor rocking her frame. "I didn't mean to do it."
Gabriel wanted to kick his own ass. His only excuse for his behavior was that he'd been so fucking happy to be here, with her--her fear had scraped him raw. When he'd risen to his feet, all he'd intended to do was kiss her impertinent mouth. "I know you didn't." He rubbed his jaw against her temple, conscious this situation would come up again and he had to get a handle on it.
Because Charlotte was his. "I would've driven back," he told her. "Next time, just tell me to go calm the fuck down."
"In exactly those words?" Charlotte's response was quiet, but it held her usual spark.
Relieved he hadn't done any permanent damage, he rubbed his jaw against her temple again, fine blond hair catching on the bristles of his five-o'clock shadow. "That's my Ms. Baird."
After the mess she'd almost made of what had been a wonderful evening to that point, Charlotte tried to be extra careful over dinner... until Gabriel growled.
"Charlotte, you're acting like the chickens," he said from where he sat just to her right. "You know what I think of the chickens. That they should be plucked and eaten."
Mouth falling open, she said, "You are a horrible man!"
"Yes, I am." He lifted a forkful of food to her mouth.
When she snapped her lips shut, he grinned. "Oh, this is wonderful. Now I know how to keep you quiet while I tell you all the deliciously bad things I'm going to do to you. I don't think I've told you how much I like your breasts. I'd like to squeeze them as I kiss your neck, then suck--"
"You--" The rest of her words were lost in a mumble around the forkful he'd fed her.
Chewing as fast as possible, she swallowed. "I was trying to be nice," she pointed out. "Trying to make it up to you." He'd taken the blame, but she knew it wasn't his fault. She'd hurt him. She hadn't meant to, but she had, and the knowledge stabbed at her deep inside.
"Charlotte," he said, "if you ever want to make up with me, just get naked." A glint in his eye. "If you feel like doing some sucking too, I won't say no. Otherwise, be yourself."
Her cheeks went red. Ducking her head, she squeezed her thighs against the impact of the images suddenly popping into her mind. Along with them came a whispered reminder that he was a physical man--she could repair things between them in a way he'd not only accept but enjoy. So, she thought, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, would she.
All she had to do was gather up the courage to try.
Gabriel tapped her foot with his under the table. "That's a very guilty look I see. What exactly are you thinking?"
"Nothing." She pretended to be very interested in her meal.
"Charlotte." A coaxing murmur that reached all sorts of places it shouldn't reach. "Tell me."
"Eat your dinn--umph." Chewing on the mouthful he'd fed her, she glared at him. "Stop doing that."
"You barely ate anything you were so worried about being nice to me." He leaned back in his chair. "I know how much is normal for you, so don't tell me otherwise."
Eyes narrowed, she put some more rice and stir-fry on her plate. Not because of his words, but because she was hungry now that the knot in her stomach had been replaced by butterflies drunk on the sinful ideas circling her mind. Gabriel didn't say anything until after she was done, and the two of them were nibbling on the berries and grapes she'd put out for dessert.
"What made you blush?" He ran the back of his index finger down her cheek.
Charlotte immediately blushed again.
"Oh, now I have to know." His shirt stretching across his shoulders, he braced one arm over his chair back, turning to angle his body toward hers. "What makes my Ms. Baird go that sweet pink shade that makes me think about the tips of her nipples? Specifically, if they're the same color."
Those nipples throbbed as if he were tugging at them with his fingers and not his words. Rising on a hot flush, she went to clear the table, but he put his hand on the back of her chair in a gentle restraint. It didn't make her afraid, not when he had that hungry T-Rex smile on his face.
"Are you sure you want to know?" she asked, deciding to fight fire with fire.
"Of course."
"Don't blame me for your frustration then."
"I'm sure I can handle it, Ms. Baird."
Charlotte bit down on her lower lip on purpose. His eyes went straight to her mouth, and her breasts grew even tighter, her nipples stiff points. It was nerve-racking to flirt with Gabriel so provocatively, but in a good way. "Well," she whispered, leaning toward him, "I was imagining what you'd do if..."
"If?" His hand flexed on the back of her chair, the tanned skin revealed by the open collar of his shirt inviting her kiss, her caresses.
"If I served you dinner wearing an apron and nothing else." The words came out in a rush.
Gabriel's chest rose and fell in harsh breaths. "You are a bad, bad woman, Ms. Baird."
"I wasn't until I met you." Sliding out of her chair on the side he hadn't blocked with his arm, she cleared the table. "Aren't you going to help?" she asked sweetly.
"When I can walk again, we'll talk about your new sass." He hauled her into his lap when she came back to the table, the hard ridge of his erection pushing against her buttocks. "Do I get you for my real dessert?"
Charlotte rubbed her fingers against her thighs.
Nuzzling at her throat, the roughness of his jaw scraping her collarbone an
d sending shivers over her body, Gabriel said, "Am I coming on too strong?"
"No." He was who he was, and she liked him that way. "I just... I want to." There, she'd managed to get it out, even if it wasn't particularly coherent.
Body going absolutely motionless, he said, "What?"
"Have sex. With you." Breath so shallow she'd hyperventilate if she wasn't careful, she stared at the wall instead of at him. "I don't want to be scared and missing out and hiding. I want to cut through the scar in a quick, clean move."
"By having sex with me?"
"Yes." Biting her lip again, this time because of nerves, she forced herself to turn to face him. "Are you mad?" Her proposal wasn't exactly romantic.
"Why would I be mad at the idea of having you hot and wet and tight around me?" It was a rough purr of a question. "But Charlotte, are you ready? I don't want to scare you off being with me because we rushed it."
"Molly says we've been engaging in foreplay for months."
"Molly is a smart woman." Another nuzzling kiss to her throat, those bristles rasping over her skin in a caress that went straight to her breasts. "How about here?"
"What?" It came out a squeak.
"Kitchen-chair sex seems appropriate after that crack about the apron."
Charlotte had been building up the guts to go into the bedroom with him, and he wanted to do it right here? Under the bright white kitchen lights? "I don't know if that would be very comfortable." It was the only thing she could think to say, her mind a mess.
29
Charlotte Confesses Her Misdeeds
She was adorable. Sexy and adorable. And his. Gabriel much preferred her flustered and blushing to scared and stiff. He figured the instant they hit the bedroom, she'd get nervous, start to worry. Right now, she was so scandalized at his suggestion that she hadn't remembered to be afraid.
"There's just one problem," he said, sliding his hand under the edge of her dress to place it on the silky skin of her thigh.
"One?" Her hand clenched on his nape. "You're asking me to have kitchen-chair sex and you say there's one problem?"