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Second-Guessing Fate By Claire Robyns Can She Outwit Fate? Gemma is on a collision course with heartbreak. At least, according to the fortune-teller her best friend drags her to see. Gemma doesn’t believe a word of it, but when other predictions start to come true, she begins to suspect that gorgeous, gray-eyed Nick is the man foretold to break her heart before she can find her soul mate. Too bad she’s never met a man she’s wanted more, because now she has to get him to dump her before she falls too hard. Nick has plans of his own. He’s ready to settle down with Ms. Right, and everything points to the beautiful Gemma. He’s determined to prove to her that he’s the perfect boyfriend—even if she does seem to be trying her best to scare him off… 48,000 words
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Dear Reader, What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who’s too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I’m able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding. We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration the first week of September. We’re pleased to offer novella Fatal Destiny by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone’s sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel, Mercy, can look forward to her follow-up story, Redemption, set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters. Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D’Abo’s Long Shot trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine’s trilogy kicks off with Double Shot. In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we’re also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we’ll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of CJ Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards. Also in November, we’re thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors, Liar’s Guide to True Love by Wendy Chen and Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you’ll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels. Whether you’re on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall! We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to
[email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page. Happy reading! ~Angela James Executive Editor, Carina Press www.carinapress.com www.twitter.com/carinapress www.facebook.com/carinapress
Dedication For James and Robert, always my precious angels.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Judy, Leonie, Liesel and Janet for your feedback, for your endless encouragement and support, and for reminding me that no story is ever dead. Thanks to my editor, Melissa Johnson, first for loving this story and then for helping to make it perfect. To the Carina Press team for your dedication, hard work and awesome talent along every step of the publication path. As always, thanks to my husband and boys for lending me out for long periods to that place inside my head.
Contents
Copyright Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen About the Author
Chapter One
“It’s no longer about Wolford nylons and Agent Provocateur thongs, Gemma honey.†Helen arched a brow at her before turning her eyes back to the road. “It’s all about informed decision making.†“I can’t believe I let you drag me along.†“You agreed last night,†she said quickly, obviously afraid Gemma was about to dig her rubber soles in and back out. Wise woman. “Agree is a very strong term,†stalled Gemma. “What word would you use?†Helen shot her another look, the kind she probably used on her class during a pop quiz. “Decimate and coerce.†“That’s two.†“You fed me straight vodkas and then coerced me into this outrageous scheme. I was in no state to take responsibility for my mind.†“Was that before or after you grabbed my arm and hissed, ‘My biological clock is spinning, Helly, it’s spinning down like a bloody stopwatch on Viagra’?†“That’s my mother’s fault.†“I’m sensing a theme here.†“They raised me on good old-fashioned values—†“Your parents were workaholics.†Helen gave her such a long frown, they nearly sideswiped a heavy-duty truck off the bridge as they crossed over into Brooklyn. “Precisely.†Gemma was too accustomed to her friend’s driving to be overtly concerned with the near-miss. “So what’s up with them taking early retirement?†“Oh, honey, is this still about them buying that farmhouse in Tuscany instead of moving back out here?†“It’s a vineyard. That’s all Tuscany is, vineyards and potholed roads and a whole lot of nothing. And she tootled her fingers at me,†snapped Gemma in disgust. “When I pointed out that most people moved closer to their children when they retire and asked how she thought she’d have any kind of relationship with her grandchildren one day, she tootled her fingers at me. ‘We’ll pass that hurdle if it ever comes to it,’ she said. If…!†“She’s going through a post-midlife crisis. She retired to a country whose national pastime is four-hour siestas. The woman worked her life away and now she wants to make up for it double-time, instant grandchildren and all.†“Tootling. You forget the tootling and big fat IF.†“She was the editor-in-chief for Glossy Gals for twenty-odd years.†Helen cut a teetering left down a narrow street of broad-leaved trees and brownstones. “If there’s one thing your mother probably knows, it’s the inner workings of a modern city girl. Emotional blackmail became redundant in the nineties, but nothing makes a glossy gal charge for the finish line faster than suggesting she might not have what it takes to win.†“I wasn’t aware it was a race.†“Of course it’s a race, honey, a race to grab a man before the best ones are either taken or damaged. You had a late start, thanks to Simon.†“Simon was over five years ago,†groaned Gemma. “Simon may be history, but the bastard ate up most of your twenties. He promised you forever and did a one-eighty halfway up the aisle.†“Technically,†Gemma corrected with a smile, “he sent a text the night before.†“From Helsinki! You may have developed a stiff upper lip from all those years in London, but I don’t buy in to this crap about a stiff upper heart.†Her words were harsh, but Helen’s voice was butter-soft. “I haven’t even met the lowlife scum and I hate him more than you ever allowed yourself to.†“What was I supposed to do? Hold a grudge against the poor man because he changed his mind?†She’d done the next best thing. She’d put the Atlantic between herself and all that heartbreak. What happened in London, stays in London. A knee-jerk reaction, yes, but look how well it had turned out. “Simon and my wasted twenties are not the problem.†Sure, the pickings might have gotten slimmer now that she’d hit her thirties, but that didn’t mean she was desperate. That also didn’t mean some ancient woman with a fake turban, crooked nose and glass ball could do anything about it. “Thank God you realize there is a problem.†“It goes like this. You got me drunk and took advantage of my vulnerability.†Helen zipped into a parking space at full speed and slammed the brakes. “Jimmie Johnson called,†moaned Gemma as she unplucked her forehead from the dashboard and snapped loose the seat belt that had left a rubber burn at her shoulder. “He needs his mojo back for the Cup.†“Come on, grumpy, we’ve got a date with fate.†Gemma opened the passenger door and stepped out, gazing up at the imposing brown-brick block of loft apartments. “So, how much do fortune-tellers make these days? Oh right, that’d be a hundred dollars per half hour.†“You can’t put a price on love.†Gemma decided against asking if that price was tax deductible as she followed through a double set of glass-paneled doors, her sneakers and Helen’s Jimmy Choos reduced to anonymity on the plush wool carpet. If—and that was a big if—she was going to consider any of this mumbo jumbo seriously for a second, the question burning her back pocket was the future of Perfect Parties. Not that she had anything against finding love. Just like she had nothing against stilettos. But try wearing five-inch heels for twelve hours straight while rushing between a walk-in refrigerator and three rows of industrial ovens in a converted warehouse. Gemma hung back as Helen went up to the young man behind a state-of-the-art granite counter. The foyer was almost barren in that minimalist way that shouted dollar signs louder than a dozen antiques and Picasso-dotted walls. A black marble information board looming above the counter listed the residents. With their occupations. Doctors, opticians, physiologists, psychologists…“Huh?â€
“What?†Helen handed over a pass card. Gemma clipped the card to her collar. “This is not a residential building, is it?†“Madame Hooch only takes clients at her office.†“Of course. With a name like that, who would’ve expected an ancient hook-nosed woman and a rusted caravan parked in a field of daisies?†Gemma muttered as they made their way to the elevator shaft. “Not me, that’s for sure.†Madame Hooch kept a suite of rooms on the third floor. Helen was ushered into Madame’s inner sanctuary first by a middle-aged assistant wearing gray slacks and a starched white top, who quickly returned to offer Gemma a cup of herbal tea. “A coffee would be great,†countered Gemma with a smile. “I’m afraid Madame Hooch doesn’t approve of artificial stimulants.†Madame Assistant went to perch behind her desk and Gemma flopped onto a nearby couch. She rested her head against the stuffed cushion, closed her eyes and thought of all the Starbucks coffees she could buy for a hundred dollars. Well, her father was always telling her to look toward the future and visualize her potential. He’d probably even approve of her paying someone else to do it for her. He was the ultimate champion of delegation. She’d never admit it to Helen, but by the time it was her turn to be ushered into Madame Hooch’s sanctuary, her inner skeptic had fled to a shadowed corner and her blood hummed ever so slightly. If Madame Hooch saw big things ahead for Perfect Parties, she could consider financing and expand. And if Madame wanted to throw a gorgeous man into the mix, Gemma wasn’t about to complain. How long had it been, anyway, since she’d last had a hot date? Twenty-five minutes later, Gemma had been dumped. She stared across the narrow desk at Madame Hooch, who was indeed ancient, with snow-white hair pulled into a tight bun—although her nose was arrow-straight. “Wait just a darn minute. I haven’t even met the guy yet and he dumps me?†“Eez a bad, bad time,†agreed Madame Hooch in her sorrowful tone. “Eet is—how you say—big achy heart.†She placed the Jack of Spades so it overlapped the King of Clubs and shook her head. “Eez a big love and the man, ah, he eez dark and so handsome, but—†she wagged a finger at Gemma, “—eez no good for you. He break your heart.†Gemma glanced from the deck of very normal-looking playing cards to the shelf behind Madame Hooch where an opaque glass egg nested on a bed of black velvet. “Maybe we should see what your crystal ball thinks?†With no indication that she’d heard, Madame Hooch turned over the next card. “Eez not all bad, no?†Apparently not. There was the inheritance she’d supposedly come into. Would be nice to know what that was and where it was hiding. Not to mention which family member had gone and died recently without her noticing. Then there was the big promotion. Funny, considering she was her own boss. All the standard rubbish and nothing, nothing at all about the prospects of Perfect Parties. “Aah,†exclaimed Madame Hooch suddenly, “now eez very good.†“You see something about Perfect Parties?†asked Gemma, eager again. Madame Hooch tapped a new card, the Nine of Hearts, and beamed a wrinkled smile at Gemma. “First the big breaky heart and then you find soul mate. How you say—tears before happy, no?†She turned another card, then deftly slid her hand over it and stood. “Time eez up. Goodbye.†“But what about that card?†asked Gemma suspiciously. “No card,†insisted Madame Hooch. “We finished.†“We’re not finished until you tell me what that Joker means.†“There eez no Joker.†Madame Hooch swept the cards into a stack and slipped them into her jacket pocket. “You come again soon. Goodbye now.†Gemma briefly considered tackling the woman to the ground and rooting through her pockets. If only Madame Hooch were fifty years younger.
Chapter Two
“And then she kicked me out,†finished Gemma as the elevator pinged open on the ground floor. “I should demand my money back.†“Madame Hooch didn’t kick you out,†protested Helen. “I don’t know what you’re mad about. You’re about to come into an inheritance and meet a gorgeous guy—†“Who dumps me.†Gemma stormed out the glass door. “And that inheritance thing has already happened, wouldn’t you know, without me being a single dime richer that I know about.†As she hit the sidewalk, a shiver crawled down her spine, setting the skin on her forearms tingling with goose bumps despite the late summer sun. Hopefully it was the last of Madame Hooch and her ridiculous predictions vacating her body as she left the building. But it felt as if the ice had wrapped around her bones and seeped into her veins. “Phsst.†Helen came up beside her. “I’m talking about the man who comes after that loser, honey. You know—†she tapped Gemma’s arm with a manicured nail, “—some people might appreciate the advance warning.†“Some people,†agreed Gemma succinctly, then turned on Helen with a growl. “Maybe those people hadn’t been tossed out on their butt before learning what that Joker meant.†“Joker?†Helen glanced up from digging in her bag for the keys. “There’s not supposed to be any Jokers in her pack.†“If Madame Hooch bothered with real tarot cards, there wouldn’t be. But she doesn’t and there was.†At the car, Gemma crossed her arms, rubbing hard for warmth while she watched Helen staring at her car keys. “You okay?†“Yeah…fine.†Helen held out the keys. “Um, Gemma? Why don’t you drive us home?†“I don’t have a license to drive a stick shift.†“For goodness’ sake, you don’t need a special license.†“Which is exactly what’s so wrong with the system.†Gemma frowned. Helen wasn’t one to hand her keys over to anyone, not even to Frank, who had the keys to everything else, including her heart. “Want to tell me what’s really going on here?†“Madame Hooch saw a black cloud hanging over my car.†Gemma laughed. “Probably while she was leaning out the window to watch you park.†“This isn’t funny.†Helen pushed the keys into her hand. “I’ve been seeing Madame Hooch for years now and she’s never wrong.†What wasn’t funny, thought Gemma, was how much that Joker still irritated her. If you were going to run a fancy scam shop, at least do it right. “So what, then? You’re never going to drive again?†“Madame Hooch said the cloud should be gone by the end of the day.†Before she could help herself, Gemma’s eyes turned up to the pale, blue sky above the Beetle. She snapped her gaze downward, beeped open the car and climbed in at the passenger side. There was a principle at stake here, a point to be proven. A full five minutes later, Helen slumped in behind the wheel. “If anything happens, it’s your fault.†“I can live with that.†Helen turned the key and launched them into the stream of traffic to the sound of a hundred blaring horns. Gemma slammed her palms to the dashboard and bit down hard on her lip. “One day, you’re going to get us killed.†“If you’re so scared, maybe you should drive.†Helen turned wide green eyes on her and made a pouting face. “Helen! Will you please watch the—†road. Rubber sideswiping metal screeched straight up her brain, then the Beetle swerved back into its own lane. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…†Helen slammed the brakes and almost got another car up their backside. The blast of an angry horn got her moving, jerking the Beetle to the side of the road with a twitchy foot on the gas pedal. “You okay?†asked Gemma. Helen nodded. Her pallor was a few shades lighter than its usual olive. Gemma put her head back against the headrest and did a mental checkup. Breathing. Check. Eyesight. Check. Memory. Madame Hooch and her damn predictions! Check. “We’re fine.†She brought her head up and glanced over her shoulder to check on the car they’d swerved up against. The silver Audi Roadster had pulled into a long loading bay across the road and reversed until he was almost directly opposite them. The dent they’d carved into the bodywork fractured the sunlight that gleamed smoothly across the rest of the polished car. But the door was opening, that had to be good. “We’re fine.†As was the man climbing out from behind the wheel. More than fine. He was tall, make that around six-foot-two tall, with broad shoulders beneath a tailored navy-blue suit. Thick waves of midnight-black hair framed his face in rough, uneven sweeps. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes but the rest of that face was pure rugged charm. He put a hand across his brow as if to squint at them, then turned to hunker beside his car. She must have sighed, because a moment later Helen asked, “You like?†“What’s not to like?†“This could work.†Helen waved a laminated card between them. “Because I’ve just discovered that my insurance expired two months ago.†“Your insurance has expired?†repeated Gemma dully. “How the hell did you let that happen? Did you see that car he’s driving? It’ll cost a month’s rent just to get the damage assessed and that—†she nudged her chin toward the rear window of the car, “—that does not look like a man who’d go to some backstreet garage.†“I know.†Helen was nibbling her lower lip. “I’ll have to pay in installments.†“Why would he agree to that without ratting on you! Do you know what they do to you for driving without insurance?†“This is where you come in.†She unsnapped her seat belt and shifted to face Gemma. “You’re going to charm the pants off him until he forgets his name, let alone this little scrape. By the time you’re done, he’ll think the installments were his idea.†“I’m going to—little scrape—pants off—†Gemma sucked in a deep breath and started over. “You crashed into him. You go charm his pants off.â€
“Frank will kill me.†“I won’t tell if you don’t.†Helen fluttered her lashes until a tear popped out. “I knew this would happen. Madame Hooch warned me and you refused to listen.†“Madame Hooch caused this! If you’d been a little more focused on the road and a little less focused on her stupid—†“You promised if anything happened, you’d accept the blame.†She fluttered a little harder to make her eyes shine with tears. “I’ve been with Frank eight years now, I’m totally rusty on flirt and charm technique.†“It’s like riding a bicycle!†But Gemma felt her resolve softening. “Besides, you’ve got the sexy factor.†“You’ve got the cute appeal. Come on, Gemma, men take one look at you and sign up for the Protect Gemma Corps.†Gemma made a gagging motion in response. “I’m not asking you to get hitched, honey. It’s just a date.†“Hang on one darn minute. So, when you say charm the pants off, you mean offer sex in exchange for favors?†“Of course not. But the man’s going to want something in return for being so nice about this little incident.†Helen flung open the car door and stepped out. Before closing it behind her, she dipped her head back inside to give a radiant smile. “A date, honey. Sex optional.†Gemma scooted from her seat to join Helen by the front bumper of the yellow Beetle. Her gaze settled on the man across the street, still hunched beside his car and examining the damage. “But, what if he isn’t single?†“Can we please deal with one problem at a time?†The man pushed to his feet and looked straight at them. “Go on.†Helen prodded her in the arm. There was a gap in the traffic, but Gemma’s feet were glued to the asphalt. What was she supposed to say to him? Excuse me, sir, my
friend over there’s going to need six months to pay off the damage, but I’ll make it up to you by allowing you to buy me dinner. No date, she decided. A little pants charming, a lot of apologizing, a sprinkle of begging if need be, but that was it! She took the next gap and darted across the road. The man slid his sunglasses up his forehead to reveal silver-gray eyes. He was still a few feet away, but enough male magnetism radiated off him to curl her toes and melt the frost that had set in after leaving Madame Hooch’s building. She misjudged her speed and distance and almost ended up in his arms. He reached out, caught her by the shoulders and gazed down into her eyes. “You’re okay? Feeling dizzy?†“No, I mean yes—yes, I’m okay, and no, I’m not dizzy.†“You’re British?†His grin fed to the tiny wrinkles at his eyes and parts of Gemma’s body gave a collective sigh. When he released her shoulders, she stood back and breathed some steel into her spine. What was the matter with her? And how the hell was she going to charm the pants off this man without losing her panties in the process? That wasn’t going to happen. She did not trade sex for favors. What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah…She shrugged and nodded. The long answer wasn’t exactly roadside chatter material. “I live here now.†A quick glance over her shoulder showed Helen leaning against her car with folded arms. Huh. Somewhere down the line, her friend was going to owe her big. Gemma pasted on an expression that, hopefully, contained the right balance of apology and wide-eyed innocence and walked around the man to assess the damage. Of the car, that was. His elegantly clad legs hinted at athletic muscles, long and streamlined but with enough bulk to fit his suit pants. “We should probably swap insurance details,†came a husky drawl. She zapped her eyes from his legs to the cracked paint of the horizontal dent that stretched the full width of the car door. Gemma stood up straighter and pushed out what little she had. Her finger trailed the dent as she looked up into his eyes. “Thank God it’s just a little—†she gulped hard as jagged metal snagged her finger, “—scratch.†Her eyes watered with the pain. He brought his hand up to brush beneath her one eye with the pad of his thumb, then the other, his gaze never leaving hers. “Please, there’s no need to cry.†“I’m sorry—†Her brain buzzed with this sudden turn. “It’s all a bit much. I can’t really think now. Did you say insurance? I suppose we…I’ve never had an accident before, this has never—†His thumb slid down her cheek and away. “You’re in shock.†“Yes! Yes, I’m in shock. Maybe I could take your number and give you a call later. When I-I’m no longer, um, in shock? If you get the damage assessed first and it’s not too bad, I could pay it off in installments rather than getting the insurance involved? I can barely afford the premiums as it is.†He looked at her, the silence stretching until she was convinced he’d conned onto her. Then a grin tucked up the left side of his mouth. “Tell you what, why don’t you have dinner with me tonight and we’ll sort everything out then.†Gemma widened her eyes on him. No. No…she’d already decided against this.  Nick Delaney blotted out the gorgeous, lilting voice so he could think straight for a second. Staring into those wide hazel eyes was a damn distraction, but he seemed to have difficulty looking away. That little beauty mark on the wing of her left eyebrow moved with the changing expressions on her face—he wondered where it’d sit when he— Had he really just asked her out? Hot damn, he hadn’t just suggested that a strong arm and a nice dinner would make all her troubles magically disappear, had he? He didn’t do that kind of thing anymore. She wasn’t even his type, too blonde and too cute. Dead broke too, apparently. For a moment, he’d thought she’d been faking those tears. His gaze rested on that lower lip of hers, then traveled up to the erotic beauty mark that had him reassessing his priorities yet again. “Why don’t we do the dinner tonight and forget about this unfortunate incident altogether?†“I’d love to have dinner with you.†The worry in her eyes cleared. “But I insist on covering the repair costs.†He shrugged. “As you said, it’s just a scratch. No need to tangle ourselves up in red tape or monthly payments. I’m Nick, by the way.â€
“Gemma.†Her accent softened the vowels and rolled the name off the tip of her tongue. She held out a hand and he took it, shaking firmly but not letting go when he should have. He couldn’t. He was drowning in her eyes and fighting off a thousand primal urges that had come on quicker than he could say, “Hot damn.†Nick didn’t have a single romantic bone in his body, he knew nothing about drowning in eyes and wasting time teasing his tongue around tantalizing beauty spots. Candice had made that clear to him when she’d slammed the door on her way out of his life last month.
“You don’t understand the first thing about women!†“You never listen. You’re incapable of a two-way conversation.†“FYI, if you want something to drape over your bed at night and shove into the cupboard come morning, get yourself a quilted cover!†Then there was the coup de grâce. He’d been hanging out the window, his brain stupefied as he watched her climb into the cab, when she’d climbed back out to scream up at him. “You, Nicolas Delaney, are the missing link!†Yet, here he was. Drowning in hazel eyes and fighting off the urge to wrap this woman in his arms and promise her anything to wipe the tears from her eyes. There were other urges as well, ones that started low and didn’t make it up past his belt, but Nick had taken a long hard look at himself after Candice had left and was determined to reform his ways. Gemma slid her hand from his and smiled. “Tonight then?†He nodded. She’d already turned to leave when he remembered. “Wait.†She froze, then glanced over her shoulder. “Café Ital in Greenwich Village? Eight thirty?†“Oh.†She looked stumped, then added, “Café Ital, sure, see you there.†She crossed the road, leaving Nick staring after. What the hell was that? She wasn’t coming, that’s what. He didn’t need a psychic to know that he’d just been stood up in advance.
Chapter Three
“This could be the one,†exclaimed Helen as she pulled yet another dress from Gemma’s closet. “Nick could be the tall, dark, handsome stranger Madame Hooch foresaw.†“She didn’t say tall and I’ve no interest in what Madame foresaw.†Gemma shoved the dress back into the closet. Helen took the next dress, a slinky black number, with her to the bed. “First I have the accident, then you go and meet a dark-haired man with genuine heartbreak potential. Don’t tell me there wasn’t a whole lab of chemistry exploding between you two.†“That sounds about right. A nice big explosion to rip my heart out and splatter it across the tarmac when he dumps me.†“It’s going to happen either way.†“I was being sarcastic.†But Helen wasn’t listening. “You might as well get it over and done with.†She sprawled across the bed, flipped back her auburn curls and propped her chin on a fist. Her cat-green eyes sparkled with excitement. “Once this Nick guy dumps you, the real fun starts. Soul mate, marriage, happy ever after.†“Meanwhile, I’ve got a business to run.†Gemma gave up on the cocktail frock her friend was holding hostage and withdrew to the small study leading off her bedroom. “People to pay, stock to inventory, advertising stunts to dream up,†she called out loudly. Helen sauntered into the study, holding the slinky dress up against her body. “I already got you off the hook,†Gemma said in her no-nonsense voice. “I don’t actually have to go on the date.†“It would be cruel to stand the guy up and he seems so…nice.†“You mean hot, and for all we know he stands up girls all the time.†Gemma closed the book of figures she’d been glancing over. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this stupid plan. I probably really was in shock from the accident and half-dazed to boot. You badgered me into this date and Mr. Nice Guy took advantage.†“But you like him.†Helen did a suggestive dance with her curves and that dress. “Take some time out for a little fun, honey.†“I do fun and time-outs.†“Hmm, I’ve known you for five years and I can count all your dates on one—†she held up five fingers, then closed in two of them and raised a brow, “—make that three fingers.†“So now we’re classifying this fest of corruption and bribery as a date?†“Okay, so it’s less date and more invitation to heartbreak.†Helen stopped messing around and perched on the edge of the desk. “But it’s not like you’re going to fall for him on your first date. If you’re worried about Madame—†“I’m more worried about you and this obsession with that batty woman.†“Because she’s never wrong.†“You never allow her to be wrong. Madame Hooch can predict any old rubbish and you enable it by treating her word as gospel.†“Look what happens when I don’t.†Helen crashed her hands together in an exploding collision. Gemma sighed and gave up. “You keep your crystal ball and I’ll keep my dignity. I’m not going and that’s final.† Nick gazed lazily at the floor-to-ceiling murals that characterized Café Ital. The soft hues lent an air of intimacy to the Italian diner, as did the cozy round tables meant for two. The place hummed with candlelit conversations, the soft thrumming of string music from well-placed speakers and the occasional shriek from the far corner, where a series of tables had been pushed together for a party of six. He beckoned to a passing waiter and ordered a glass of merlot and spaghetti bolognaise. He didn’t need to look at his watch to know he’d been stood up. Too bad. The lovely Gemma had been on his mind all afternoon. Those ash-blond waves tossed about her oval face as if she’d just fought a hurricane and lost. The cotton T-shirt that had clung shamelessly to breasts that were a perfect handful. That beauty spot that seemed to wink and beckon him to come a little closer. He settled back in his chair, legs fully stretched beneath the red-and-white checkered tablecloth and crossed at the ankles. His gaze landed on the vase in the center of the table with its single trimmed red rose and bit of sprigging and he reconsidered his position. Lovely or not, he wasn’t ready for a Gemma in his life. Candice hadn’t just left him, she’d minced his balls on her way out. Women did not dump Nick Delaney. He was mature enough to admit that experience had stripped his ego, and man enough to make sure it never happened again. He could reconstruct his idea of a woman’s place in his life; reevaluate the balance of give-and-take. He could change. If he couldn’t find his sweet, understanding, feminist side, he’d damn well go out and borrow one. I applaud the sentiment, man, Jackson would say. Billy would be less tactful and go with something like, Have you lost your mind? But the Candice breakup had really shaken him. What if one too many years of bachelorhood had turned him into a selfish, arrogant SOB?
Into the kind of man who’d blackmail a lady into a date just because she was easy on the eyes and in distress? The waiter returned with his wine and Nick gulped down half the glass in one sip. No, it was a good thing that the lovely Gemma hadn’t turned up tonight. He didn’t need a rebound relationship. He needed…What did he need? According to Jackson and the guys—a wife. Ha! Their talk and walk was separated by a mile of bullshit. The way they moaned about their married status, a man would be better off throwing himself beneath the wheels of the hitching wagon than catching a ride. But when Nick tested the word wife on his tongue, he was a little surprised to find it didn’t roll off and choke him. At thirty-six, he was the last of his friends and colleagues without a three-bedroom house, a kid or two and, every now and then, one on the way. Hell, he’d never planned to escape the noose for so long—too long according to a certain client he was wooing. With the right woman, at the right time, he had nothing against marriage. He could do the whole hook and sinker, ball and chain—his chest tightened. He took another sip of wine and suddenly couldn’t swallow. Then he remembered how he’d regressed all the way back to the Dark Ages today and the smooth merlot slid down his throat. It would take years before he’d improved sufficiently to be anyone’s husband. Right now, he was just happy to
work on not chasing women away with his archaic attitudes. He was a chauvinistic buffoon, or something like that…he hadn’t quite caught Candice’s last retort as the cab had pulled away—a bus had rolled on by, cutting her from his sight and hearing. A rush of air swept into the room as the street door to the café opened. And there Gemma was, obliterating every regret and progressive thought. All petite curves in a black dress that clung suggestively to her figure and stopped just above her knees. His admiring gaze traveled down to well-toned calves and on to narrow feet encased in delicate crisscross gold straps. Feet moving rapidly toward him. Nick snapped his gaze from her feet to her face. “Hello, Nick,†Gemma said as she slipped into the chair opposite him. Confusion followed. Knees brushed shins and feet collided as he tried to pull in his legs. The table lifted, a glass teetered, someone caught it, he wasn’t sure who, and finally, finally his feet were under his chair and hers were presumably under hers. Nick grinned across the table. “Hello there, how are you?† Hot damn, she was beautiful. Not in any distress, either—at least not of the kind she needed saving from. Her cheeks were flushed, her hazel eyes stormy, her full lips were, well, full and very, very kissable. She returned a smile that was too small to be anything other than strained politeness, but nothing a little charm couldn’t get around. The challenge was irresistible. Nick shifted in his seat and flagged down the waiter while apologizing, “I’ve already ordered.†“That’s presumptuous.†Her eyes sparked and the warm hazel burnt to hard toffee. “Whatever you think you know about me, you don’t.†The devil in Nick stirred. “So, you don’t eat spaghetti bolognaise?†“No, no, I don’t.†Wow, she sure got herself wound up quick. He wondered how that fiery temper would translate between the sheets, deciding he definitely wanted to find out. “Then it’s just as well I didn’t order the spaghetti for you.†“I don’t care if you ordered lobster on a—†“The lobster bisque here is superb.†He smacked his lips together. “Definitely worth caring about.†“I knew this was a bad idea!†She pushed up from the table with a series of movements, retrieving her purse from the floor, tugging at the hem of her dress, shaking fingers through her blond crop. When she did an abrupt turn, it brought her nose-to-nose with the waiter bearing his plate of spaghetti bolognaise. “Could you take that back to the kitchen and bring us some menus?†Nick asked of the stunned man. He reached out to grab hold of Gemma’s arm before she took off. “I thought you’d stood me up,†he said, his voice low and sincere. “I ordered because I thought this was going to be a meal for one.†“Oh.†She turned back and slumped into her chair. She met and held his gaze for an age, and then, finally, exhaled on a sigh and admitted, “I thought I’d stood you up as well.†Now that she was safely seated once more, Nick relaxed into his chair. “Why would you do that? Could it be my devastating good looks that disgust you?†He grinned hard. “Perhaps my boyish charm? No? Then it must be my immense wealth—some girls find it despicable.†She gave a soft giggle. “I can see how that might be a problem.†He nodded solemnly. “I could always get rid of my cursed fortune.†She leaned in, elbows on the table, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Not much you can do about the charm and good looks, though.†Nick laughed out loud. Then she was laughing with him, a laugh that started deep in her chest, drew his gaze to her wide, sensual mouth and left him with a feeling there was far more to discover about Gemma than how her fiery temper would translate between the sheets. The opportunity for which he’d almost bungled. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.†“Not entirely your fault,†she said, her laughter dwindling, the smile staying. “I arrived grouchy.†“Then I’m pleased I could help.†He took an upper-body bow, a mocking tribute to his own brilliance that made her shake her head on a giggle, then he thought to question, “Unless I didn’t. You’re not still grouchy, are you?†Because, one could never be a hundred percent sure, even if Gemma was laughing and smiling. Candice had screamed out his name in three different kinds of ecstasy, gone on to add she could happily die here and now, and the very next day she’d flung their year of perfectly good sex in his face and rubbed it in like a damn mud pie with her list of grievances.  “No, I’m not still grouchy,†Gemma assured Nick, her mood warming up like a lazy summer afternoon. Darn, this was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to come. This guy had the kind of charm that spiked her blood like a long, slow sip of fifteen-year-old brandy. One second he was kidding around, reminding her what it felt like to be single and flirty—and available to explore any delectable prospects. The next he got all concerned and serious with that molten silver brooding look in his eye, and parts of her body yielded to him like an old familiar friend. If familiar had a zest of tangy citric and a spark that could set the whole of New York on fire. He was a flaming crêpe suzette. Their eyes met and held, and Gemma felt the connection to her bones. The pull felt like a cosmic thread that breached universes and other little things like I don’t even know your last name, but then she did have Madame Hooch on the brain. The waiter delivered the menus and Gemma took her time deciding. What to do about this date, that was. Profound lust of cosmic dimensions aside, Nick had traded her for the price of a scrape to his car and she was not about to discount her self-worth any further by throwing mindless sex into the deal. The poor man would have to accept he’d bought a dud. Italian pasta, witty conversation, and the view wasn’t half-bad. As long as she kept strictly to her side of the table, she could almost pretend this was a proper date. Gemma looked over the top of her menu at him and declared, “I’ll have the spaghetti bolognaise.†Chuckling, he called the waiter back to take their order for food and more wine. When they were alone again, Gemma threw her hands up. “Okay, truce, I guess there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy the evening.†“No reason at all.†His tone suggested he’d heard far more than she’d said, but then their wine arrived and he winked at her, teasing softly, “Our waiter does not look happy with you.â€
The conversation moved on to the light, charming banter Nick obviously excelled at, and by the time they were sipping on cappuccinos, in lieu of dessert, she’d been lulled into a mood more delicious than the meal. Sliding his elbows across the table, Nick closed the gap between them. “About that truce, we never did get around to waving a white flag.†Their noses were millimeters apart. She could smell his spicy aftershave and something else that was entirely male. Deep hollows beneath his cheekbones emphasized his square jaw and Gemma’s honest intentions got lost in the sudden influx of little white lies. He’s hotter than
chili roasting on an open fire—if I were a lesser woman with a lesser plan, I’d be in a whole heap of trouble. Plan, flan, I have strategy. Lookdon’t-touch. “We can’t declare a truce without a white flag,†she murmured. He leaned in, so close, his lips moved against hers as he suggested, “Should we seal it with a kiss?†A hot hum started low in her belly and spread to her toes, melting a weak spot behind her knees along the way. Her eyelids grew heavy and before she knew it, her lips were opening in invitation and her eyes were closing. What’s one kiss? I’d be worried, but I have strategy.
Touch-don’t-look. He tasted of mint and chocolate and coffee, a combination of all her favorites. Their tongues tangled and stroked while his hands cradled the back of her head, pulling her close, keeping her there. The tingling heated up to stroke a fire that threatened to blaze out of control. What felt like a lifetime later, Nick released her lips with slow reluctance, but he didn’t move away. His gaze went just left of hers and his voice went husky. “A witch’s birthmark, some might say.†His lips followed to bestow a kiss left of her eyebrow. “Must be so, because you bewitched me the moment I first laid eyes on you.†“It’s just a mole,†she murmured self-consciously. “An adorable—†another kiss, “—priceless—†was that his tongue? “—mole.†He leaned back in his chair, putting distance between them without breaking the intimate gaze. “What was that?†she asked dreamily. “A kiss.†Nick’s hands slid across the table and grasped her trembling fingers, folding them in and around his. “Just a kiss.†Gemma jerked her hands free and sat up straight. A little late for primness, but it was never too late to scrape up the last remnants of her pride. Her blood was hot and her temper high. “You might have bought me for this date, but my body was never up for sale.†His jaw went slack. “What the hell are you talking about?†“I’m talking about…†Letting the cat out of the bag was better than admitting you had licked up the cream. Or something like that. Besides, she did not need her role in this deception added to her bag of life-sins. She swallowed hard and told him everything, starting with Helen’s lapsed insurance and ending with her own hesitant participation. “So,†he said at last, “you did intend to stand me up. Did you change your mind or did your friend Helen change it for you?†Gemma bit down on her tongue. His voice had turned to ice, but it was that tick at his temple that really worried her. Time to shove the cat halfway back into the bag. “I decided it would be nice to get to know you better, but I don’t want you getting ideas.†His brow shot up. Gemma grimaced. “I seduced you into this date, Nick. That might make some men think I’d be eager and willing to hop into the sack.†“And I’m one of those men?†A flush burned her throat. “You kissed me and we’re not even on last-name terms.†“You kissed me too,†Nick said dryly. “We’re talking about a kiss here, not sex with a stranger.†“The one is a condom wrapper away from the other.†Gemma sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not happening, Nick, sex is off the menu for tonight.†She realized what she’d said and quickly added, “I mean you’re not getting sex, ever.†“That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think?†Nick shifted in his chair, squaring one leg over the other as he folded his arms, grinning. A grin as sexy as she’d ever come across, sporting a short, deep dimple in the center of his chin and rippling fine lines at the corner of his eyes. “Condemning me to the life of a eunuch.†“I—I didn’t mean you’d never, um, ever…†“I see. So what you meant was that I would never get it—†he stretched across the table to place a hand on her arm, “—from you.†Her skin awakened beneath the feathery circles he massaged with his thumb and her sharp retort sank to the bottom of her belly. Gods above, did he have to look so yummy? The sheer navy jersey he wore stretched comfortably against his broad chest, the sleeves narrow enough to reveal lean, muscular arms. It wasn’t just the toe-curling physique, the strong angles of his hard, tanned face. It wasn’t just the dark, sultry character creased into every line on his face. Sexual attraction she could handle, and Nick was about as sexy as it got. But no, there was his cheeky savant attitude, the boyish charm. The hint of humor in his gray eyes, the promise of fun in his expressive smile. “I’m not sure I meant that either,†Gemma murmured, all her good intentions and the last shred of her dignity melting in the puddle of desire pooling at the back of her knees.
Chapter Four
“Not like that.†Gemma flicked Paul’s hand away from the pastry he’d been torturing. “How many times do I have to show you?†With delicate fingers, she deftly wrapped a thin sheet of flaky pastry around the smoked salmon while her eyes flitted across the warehouse. Dark, stacked corners hammered at her nerves, half-packed crates and workbenches littered with crepe paper screamed inside her head. The clock on the wall ticked with deafening precision, counting down the seconds with each loud stroke as she surveyed the rows of empty silver platters. “We’ve less than five hours to go and nothing’s ready!†She held the pastry up for Paul to see. “Do you see the difference?†“Whatever,†he said flatly, scuffing one foot against the other and crossing long arms around his gangly midriff. “What’s eating you today, boss?†The mess, the clutter, the frenzy—a normal day as any at Perfect Parties, but today she couldn’t take it. “I don’t need something eating at me to expect a job done properly.†She tossed the Salmon Delight onto the baking tray and spun about. “Tessa! Why isn’t the champagne in the fridge yet?†Tessa peered wide-eyed over the mug of coffee pressed to her lips. Gemma covered the floor in long strides, bristling as she passed her young assistant. “Must I do everything myself?†What was the point of employing assistants if they never actually assisted with anything? “I was about to…†Tessa faltered as Gemma grabbed bottles of Krüg by the neck and marched to the walk-in fridge. Gemma stepped on the release clutch and the solid steel door swung open. The icy vapors cooled her temper and when two pairs of worried eyes met her at the door, she felt terrible about snapping at her young assistants. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what’s come over me.†“You look terrible,†Tessa said. Paul nodded his agreement. “Anything you want to talk about?†Gemma shook her head, but gave them a wide smile. “Let’s just get on with it.†Tessa slumped her shoulders and skid across the polished floor. Paul went back to the ovens, raking a hand over Tessa’s bent head as she packed glassware and napkins into a plastic crate. Tessa smacked his hand off and muttered something inaudible. Paul jumped back and laughed. Everything was back to normal. If Nick ever did get around to calling her, she’d slam the phone down in his face. And then she’d phone him back just to slam it down again. Not that she could phone him back, because she didn’t have his number! Nick, on the other hand, had hers. He’d had her number for two freaking days and he hadn’t called. He’d walked her home, held her hand the entire one and a half blocks between Café Ital and her apartment in the village, and kissed her senseless outside the front door of her building. Then he’d walked away and she’d not heard a peep from him since. There should be a law about that. Men like him should be clapped in irons and thrown into a damp dungeon crawling with rats. “Gemma…†Anne’s voice rang out from above, startling Gemma from her pleasant thoughts. “Phone.†“Coming,†she shouted and hurried toward the stairs leading to the small office loft. Anne met her at the top, looking every inch the accountant in her beige Dior suit, which cost double what Gemma paid her a month. “I informed him that you were busy, but he threatened legal action if I didn’t get you to the phone.†Gemma pulled a face at Anne. Her day had just gone from bad to hell. She picked the receiver up and held it to her breast, needing a fortifying breath before dealing with Gelinki. Ambrose Gelinki had already changed the venue twice, the last time as recent as last night—to Long Island, no less. That meant she’d have to negotiate the expressway this afternoon, adding an extra hour or so of traveling time. “Hello.†Gemma spoke sharply into the receiver, vowing to put her foot down if Gelinki had yet another last-minute brain wave about his daughter’s engagement party. Her eyes and fingers scanned the mess of invoices strewn across the table, searching for the Gelinki folder. “Hi,†a husky voice breathed down the line, “Gemma?†Nick! Her breath caught in her throat and that was the only reason she didn’t bark out, “Have a good life, Nick,†before slamming down the receiver. She slumped into her chair and worked the tightness from her throat. “This is Gemma Cameron. And I’m speaking to?†“It’s Nick,†he said gently, deeply. “Nick Delaney. From Wednesday night? Café Ital?â€
Ooh, he was good. Yes, Nick from Wednesday night. Nick from Café Ital. Not Nick, the one who kissed you into a heap of fire-tipped nerves and then walked away without a backward glance. “Oh, that Nick.†Gemma forced a lightness into her voice. “This is a surprise.†“A good one, I hope?†A small chuckle. A hot blush crept up her throat. Damn the man. Did he have to have such a sexy voice? “Anyway…†Nick cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you for the other night. I had a really good time.â€
Good for you. Gemma waited, listening to the uneven breathing on the other side of the line. If he was expecting her to reciprocate, he should have called forty-eight hours ago. Stilted silence hung on the line. The sound of paper shuffling drew her eyes across the table and into Anne’s curious gaze. “What?†she mouthed, chasing the other woman’s attention back to her bookkeeping. “Uh, I was wondering, that is—Would you like to go out again on Monday night?†No self-assured cockiness, nothing for her to grab on to. Gemma’s resistance crumbled at his hesitancy. The bricks of anger, frustration and humiliation fell to the ground around her. “I might be free,†she heard herself saying.
“Great. I’ll collect you at seven.†Gemma slammed the phone down and slapped a palm to her forehead. That was it then. Her last stab at dignity flushed down the toilet. I’m a Monday Night Girl! He’d reserved the weekend for his fun and booked her for the after-party. “I have no pride.†“What’s that, dear?†asked Anne from her corner of the office. “Tell me Monday became the new date night while I wasn’t looking.†Anne chuckled. “I wouldn’t know, dear. I haven’t been on a date in thirty years.â€
See? It could be worse. Waiting for Monday night has to be better than waiting thirty years. Gemma conveniently forgot Anne had been married for every single day of those last thirty years and started thinking about what she’d wear. Darn it all, Nick hadn’t mentioned where he was taking her and she still didn’t have his number.  On a picnic, as it turned out. Gemma slid her hand over the wicker basket lid and grinned at Nick. “You do know I’m a chef, right?†“We never got that far last time, but I think I’m safe.†She flipped the lid and started pulling out the contents. “Champagne. Plastic flutes. Still water, sparkling water, strawberries and—what is this?†She lifted out the vacuum pack. “Smoked oysters.†She gave him a cheeky smile. “You’ve covered all the basic food groups.†Nick’s laughter fed into his eyes. “Even the champagne?†“Especially the champagne.†As in, the basic food groups for a seduction. The sun was only just starting to set, casting shadows that wouldn’t catch up to them for a good half hour. In jeans and a white T-shirt, his jaw sporting a day’s growth of bristle and his hair mussed up carelessly, Nick looked yummy enough to eat. His grin deepened to catch that dimple at his chin and her heart went ping. The rest of her made like Bugs Bunny on a bad ear day. Five minutes with this man and she flopped in the middle like an overdone soufflé. If she didn’t know Madame Hooch was a crock, she’d swear the hag had bespelled her into a nosedive toward heartbreak. Gemma put her hands back and stretched her legs out on the picnic blanket, assuming the position of seduceé. The wicker basket and the unpacked food and drinks sat neatly between her and Nick. To her left, a stone Garibaldi was frozen in the motion of drawing his sword and to her right a group of young kids ran in circles, laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs. She sighed, rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one elbow and picked at the food. If Nick had seduction in mind, he would have chosen a secluded spot somewhere instead of a main thoroughfare in Washington Square Park. “Tell me about yourself,†Nick said as he poured them each a glass of champagne. “You’re a far way from home.†“I’m closer than you think,†Gemma told him. “I was born in Manhattan. My dad’s firm transferred him to London when I was five. Apparently it was only supposed to be a short-term assignment, but then my mom got wrapped up in her job at the magazine and that was that.†His gaze searched hers. “Except for the part where you came back.†Gemma shrugged. “Did you come here to study to be a chef?†he prodded. “God, no, I did my Cordon Bleu Grand Diplôme in Paris.†Her eyes lit up. “Although nowadays, I mostly put my talent to stuffed pastries and rolled delights. I have a catering company called Perfect Parties.†Half an hour later, the shadows stalked the edge of their blanket and she was still talking about her hopes and dreams for the company she’d formed four years ago. “You shouldn’t get me started,†she said, laughing. “I don’t know when to stop.†Nick had copied her position on the other side of the wicker basket, his head resting in his palm. “I love listening to you talk. Your eyes are bright. Your cheeks are flushed.†“It’s the champagne.†She quickly turned her head away, dismissing the toasty feeling that wrapped around her bones. Nick was a smooth-talking charmer, she knew as much from the other night. Rattling off intimate observations in a sexy-as-hell voice was just part of his repertoire. He reached across and nudged her underneath the chin until she was looking at him again. “You’re passionate about success and, it would seem, successful in your chosen passion.†His gaze was as warm and sincere as his tone. Gemma wasn’t fooled, she wasn’t nearly as fascinating as he made out, but she was definitely enticed. When last had a guy taken the time to charm her senseless? Never, that’s when. The most Simon had ever noticed about her was something like, “Is that dress new?†and even that had been mostly guesswork with a fifty percent hit rate. “I get that from my dad,†she told him, giving her body permission to melt beneath his gaze, touch and seemingly rapt devotion. Every girl deserved to be charmed at least once in a lifetime, if only for a short, deluded while. “When I turned seven, he made me write down a list of what I wanted to be when I grew up.†Nick withdrew his hand. Slowly. Grazing her throat along the way. Stopping before he reached the base, where things might have gotten interesting. “And what did seven-year-old Gemma want to be when she grew up?†“Let’s see…†She threw her mind back two and a half decades. “A horse whisperer topped the list.†Nick shouted out a laugh. “I loved horses,†defended Gemma, “and I spent all my time whispering to my dolls. It seemed like the perfect job. Until Dad explained that there was only money in horse whispering if you were an actor.†“What else?†prompted Nick. “A ballerina and a bunny.†“A ballerina I understand.†Gemma shook her head in mock dismay. “You don’t appreciate the benefits of bunnies. They get to have dozens of babies and are in charge of all the Easter eggs.†“What did your dad have to say about that?†“He said he was in charge of the Easter eggs and did I have any idea how much it cost to raise one kid, let alone a dozen.â€
Nick’s smile turned soft and gentle. “What did Daddy dearest have to say about the ballerina gig?†“He told me to grab my dreams with both hands and got my mum to sign me up at The Ballet Studio.†She popped a baby strawberry into her cheek and spoke around it. “What about you?†“Nope, can’t say I ever signed up at The Ballet Studio.†She picked up another strawberry and tossed it at him. He caught it in his mouth and chewed. “I followed in the family business.†“You work for your dad?†Nick chuckled. “My great-great-granddaddy started us off in the transport business with a donkey and a wagon down south. My family’s all still down there, convinced I’ll come scuttling home someday with my Big New York Dream trailing beneath my shoe like a used strip of toilet paper.†“You’re still here.†“And I intend to stay. I started Gravell as a delivery service with one van and a contract from an online vendor who went bust three months later. The last six years have been—†He cut off abruptly and concentrated on twirling a plastic spoon in the tub of cream. “Have been?†she prompted. Not too bad, she guessed, thinking of his Audi Roadster and the apartment in Tribeca he’d mentioned on Wednesday night. “You don’t want to hear about all that.†She gave him a quizzical frown. “I’d love to hear all about it. How you went from delivery boy to—†“No, you don’t.†He held up the plastic spoon, pulled back the neck and aimed it straight at her. Too late, she saw the spoon was loaded. “You wouldn’t—â€
Plop. She wiped the dollop of cream from her cheek with a finger and licked it clean, already looking around for ammunition. She found and grabbed the bottle of sparkling water, too busy shaking it up to notice Nick lunging for her across the spread of food. Lips met lips, thigh rubbed thigh and the bottle landed up squished between them as he jumped her right there in broad daylight.
Chapter Five
Gemma stood beneath the shower, letting the water beat the knots from her tired muscles. “I’ve made a decision,†came Helen’s voice through the door. She cut the water and stepped out of the shower, pulling a towel from the rack. The steamed-up mirror obscured her face in the same fuzzy way her thoughts seemed to be doing to her usually sharp brain. Nick was trouble. Going on yet another date with Nick was disastrous. Any fool could see that. She’d only end up a jabbering idiot again, snapping and crackling at everyone when he left her hanging afterward. They’d done it five times now. Five dates, that is. Five dates in three weeks. One fun and sexy romp in the park that had scared a kid and ended with a vicious mother cursing icicles over their man-made steam. Four-and-a-half good-night kisses—she’d cut the last one off to grapple for her front door keys, convinced she was about to get lucky. Twenty-one frustrated nights and two twitchy assistants.
Do the math, kiddo. He’s just not that into you. Gemma quickly dried herself, then tied the towel around her breasts and opened the door to chaos. She stepped over the trail of discarded clothes leading from the closet to the bed. “So, what have we chosen?†Helen held a slinky something against her body. It definitely wasn’t a dress or in fact anything else that could be passed off as clothes. “Where did you get that?†“Well, I looked and looked—†her hands took in the scattered garments, as if the annihilation might have escaped Gemma’s attention, “—and I didn’t find, so I looked further abroad.†“I’m not wearing that,†Gemma said firmly, suddenly recognizing it for what it was. Last year Helen had popped across the hallway to show off the new dress she’d bought for Frank’s precinct Christmas dinner. Gemma didn’t remember much, but there’d been boobs popping out of sides and some other things popping out in other places with all the slits and low-cut seams. “It’s perfect, honey.†Helen was at her side in a heartbeat, spinning her around to face the full-length mirror and pinning the wouldbe dress to her shoulders. “One look at this and Nick will be clamoring to tear it off.†With the energy of a lizard at midday, she pushed Helen and the dress away and flopped across her bed, not bothering to move the piles of clothes out of her way. She should never have told Helen about the bone-melting, mind-numbing kiss that had chased her inside and halfway up the stairs before she realized Nick wasn’t following. That was what happened when your best friend lived across the hall from you and rushed out the moment she heard the lock turn in your door. When she was there to catch you as you crumpled into a mess of humiliated sobs. Helen planted herself beside Gemma on the bed. Gemma got her say in first. “I know this is the century of sexual enlightenment, but I’m not getting dressed up to snag myself an evening of sex.†“This isn’t about sex, honey.†Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s about confidence,†went on Helen. “It’s about putting yourself out there, right on top, so that when, you know…†Like hell she knew. “When what?†“When—†Helen swallowed loudly. “So that when Nick dumps you, honey, you have enough confidence to flick him off your shoulder and walk away to meet the man you’re meant to be with.†“Oh, is that all?†“Maybe to hurry things up a bit as well.†Helen shrugged. “Let’s be honest, the man’s not going to dump you until he’s slept with you. The longer you stretch this foreplay out, the higher the risk of emotional attachment.†Gemma bolted upright. “One, two, three…dinner, sex and cheers…nice knowing you.†“Um, that’s probably not a good idea.†“You’re right, don’t want to drag the relationship out too long by taking time for dinner.†“I wasn’t referring to the dinner.†“You mean the sex then? I’ll be sure to tell Nick to keep it under five minutes. For all I know, he only needs two. Some men do, you know.†Helen wasn’t laughing. “You can’t be the one to say cheers. He has to dump you—otherwise you may corrupt the fate-line. Changing the order of events could split your destiny path and even block the branch to your soul mate.†“That sounds like a quote from some loony pseudo-physics website.†“I’m speaking from experience! And, well…†Helen averted her eyes. “Maybe a little research.†“You’re crazy.†“I’m thorough.†“And I don’t care about Madame Hooch’s soul mate options.†Gemma was ready to pull her hair out. She’d finally taken the time out for all that fun Helen was forever going on about, and someone had forgotten to add the main ingredient. She hadn’t realized how long and hard she’d been starved for physical intimacy and a strong, warm body to get all tangled up against, until Nick had come along. She’d crossed over from sexually frustrated to sexually neglected by the end of their first date, and he still wasn’t giving out. “I just want a little sex.†“I want you to have sex too, honey.†Helen held the dress up with a hopeful smile. Gemma actually considered the scraps of material—for one crazy heartbeat. “You just want me to get dumped.†“Madame Hooch wants you to get dumped,†corrected Helen. “I want you to end up happy.†Gemma rolled her eyes. “That woman is a menace to society. Uh-uh.†She waved a finger at Helen’s automatic protest. “Let’s not forget this is the same Madame Hooch who has been promising you marriage and kids for years.†She immediately bit her tongue and cursed her short temper. Frank was a good guy, one of New York’s Finest, in fact. He kept the streets safe for them and looked good while doing it. He’d also made it clear from the beginning that marriage would never be in the cards. He had a bad divorce in his past and a daughter who’d been in therapy ever since. Apparently Frank had promised his daughter he’d never start a new family to replace
her. Privately, Gemma thought that was a load of crap, but that was his story and eight years down the line Frank was still sticking to it. “Marriage is just another word to describe the committed and life-lasting relationship Frank and I are in,†Helen said after a significant pause. “I love his daughter as if she were my own.†Clutching the knotted towel at her chest, Gemma scrambled from the bed before her mouth ran off again to use Helen as the ball to score another point against Madame Hooch. She padded across the hardwood planks to the closet, pulling randomly at items, trying to get Madame Hooch’s voice out of her head.
“Eet is—how you say—big achy heart.†“Eez a big love and the man, ah, he eez dark and so handsome, but eez no good for you. He break your heart.†“Nick’s here.†Helen had moved to the window, separating the blinds with two fingers. “Quick. Are you ready?†“Does it look like it?†Gemma smoothed down the narrow ankle-length skirt, then started on the aerobics of zipping up her stiletto boots. “What’s the time? I’m sure he’s early.†“He’s ten minutes late.†“What’s he doing? Is he coming up? He can’t come up—†“He’s getting out the car, he’s stopping, okay, he seems to be…†Helen let the blinds fall into place and crossed the room. “He’s talking on his cell. Lipstick?†Gemma skidded across the planks and scrambled in the chest of drawers, pulling out a glossy pink shade. She ran the color over her lips, smacked them together, then turned around. “Hair.†“Oops.†Gemma grabbed the towel she’d discarded on the floor and rubbed hard. With most of the moisture gone, she smeared a drop of gel on her palms and pushed them through her hair. When she spun around again, Helen was giving her a funny look. “What?†Gemma asked, suddenly breathless. Helen smiled sadly. “You really like this guy, don’t you?†Two heartbeats later, the first for denial and the second for defeat, Gemma said, “I think I do.†A few minutes later, Gemma fled down the stairs, shrugging off the strange feeling Helen had left her with. A smiling frown and large green eyes filled with the regret of an angel sending a soul to hell. Madame Hooch had much to answer for. At the bottom she paused to catch her breath, then sauntered with a casual elegance across the lobby and out to the street. Nick missed the show completely. He stood with his back to her, one arm leaning on the roof of a black sedan and the other holding a cell phone to his ear. His broad shoulders narrowed to his waist in a perfect proportion of lean, defined muscle. The slim-fit pants and pale blue shirt he wore revealed more of his scrumptious physique than it hid. Her gaze raked over him while her hormones frothed themselves into a stiffly beaten meringue with all the dips and peaks of frustrated desire. Nick spun around seconds before she reached him. He flipped his cell shut, giving her the once-over with that dimpled grin as he reached down to hold open the rear car door. “Hey there.†“Hi.†Her skin prickled as she brushed past him to dip inside and scoot along the backseat. He folded his legs in beside her, closing the door and turning a smoldering look on her that glazed her veins over like crème brûlée. Nick informed the driver, “We’re ready.†Gemma wet her dry lips. She’d been ready for weeks, darn it all. “Am I allowed to know where we’re going yet?†she asked as the driver smoothed the long car into a gap in the traffic. Nick chuckled. “Dinner and dance.†That sounded very grown up. And not at all what she’d expected when Nick had said he’d planned something special and wanted it to be a surprise. “Good weekend?†“Busy.†His gaze stayed on her, keeping the heat turned up on her caramelized problem. “Same here.†A flush tingled up her throat and at her cheeks. She entwined her fingers across her lap. Untwined them. Crossed her legs and smoothed a hand along her thigh. “Busy? Anything interesting?†“Not really. You?†“Busy.†Hadn’t she already said that? “And interesting. Big party Saturday night.†“Friends?†Work. “Um, I guess.†After that the conversation dried up and the silence was anything but comfortable. For her, that was. Nick seemed relaxed and quite content to sit back and look at her with an easy smile and the devil’s own charm riding his brow. Whoever said first dates were a nightmare had never been on a sixth date. Now, if she’d done it with Nick once or twice, she’d be able to run her fingers along that hard thigh with a playful laugh. Maybe slide a little closer to breathe in his spicy scent while she chatted about how much she’d missed him. But no, they hadn’t done it. So instead of threading her fingers in those gorgeous dark curls and pulling him close for a deep kiss on those sensual, wide lips and teasing him about what he kept his weekends free for, here she was—stiff and tense with sexual deprivation, and seriously wondering just who the hell he kept his weekends free for. Gemma turned her gaze from him and out the passenger window, staring at the canopied restaurants as they passed through Tribeca. Not passing through, she realized, when they veered off West Broadway and the driver pulled up in front of one of the converted warehouses that lined the narrow cobblestone lane. Her heart skipped a few beats as she scrambled out her side before Nick could come around to open the door. “You live here, don’t you?†“Uh-huh.†He’s taking me to his apartment. He had special plans for the evening, all right, and they had nothing to do with “dinner and dance.†She tried to work up some decent indignation, but who was she kidding? She hadn’t shaved and waxed and plucked for her own amusement.  Nick dismissed the driver, then gave Gemma his full attention. Underneath the misty streetlight glow, her eyes shone close to gold. When she licked her lower lip, he almost groaned out loud. It had taken every ounce of self-restraint to leave her side the other night. She hadn’t made it easy then and she wasn’t now.
She wanted him, she wanted him so badly her body couldn’t hide it. But Candice held him back.
“Do I like my broccoli with or without cheese?†“How should I know? I’ve never seen you eat broccoli.†“What’s my favorite movie?†“Um…Titanic?†“No, Nick, it’s Sleeping with the Enemy.†“Then how come we’ve watched Titanic forty times?†“See, this is exactly why I’m leaving. We’ve been together two years and you don’t even know my favorite color.†“That’s easy. Blue.†“No, I only wear that all the time because you think it brings out the blue in my eyes. The sex was great, Nick, but there’s more to me and you never took the time to find out.†Nick wasn’t about to make the same mistake. There was something about Gemma, something that crowded his head and tugged at his gut, and until he found out what that was, he was playing it slow. “Ready to have some fun?†he asked, offering his arm.  Gemma hesitated at the sensual invitation in his gaze, suddenly nervous. Suddenly afraid of the depth of whatever was going on between them. There were moments, such as now, that took her breath away, a feeling that their souls had collided a billion years ago and they’d been riding the trail of that burning star ever since. Whenever she got closer to him, things got a whole lot less sentimentally fuzzy and a whole lot more physical. Her knees buckled, heat pooled low in her belly and her blood ran hot enough to fry her brain into serious delusions. Time to step back. Time to remember she didn’t know Nicholas Delaney at all. She didn’t believe in reincarnation, and stars were clusters of helium and hydrogen in constant danger of collapsing into big, bad black holes. When Nick took her hand and tried to pull her along, she dug her stilettos in. “Nick, wait, maybe we should just go see a film or something.†“Don’t worry, you’re going to have a great time.†“I—I don’t think I can.†“I see.†His eyes crinkled with his soft laugh. “It’s been a while, huh?†Damn his smile. It seemed to melt her brain and drain her moral fiber. And if it had been a while, whose fault was that? Well, hers for the last few years, but definitely his for the last few weeks. “Don’t worry, darling.†He nudged her chin with his knuckles and gazed down into her eyes. “I know all the moves.†Stars were also clouds of gas with millions of tiny nuclear fissions heating up the core. That sounds about right. Unless he does something
to release my sexual gravity right now, I’ll implode into a black sun. They were in the cargo elevator before her brain came back online and reacted to what he’d said while all that deep stargazing had been going on.
I know all the moves. She frowned up at him. Did he even intend to feed her before waltzing her into his bed? Just how desperate did he think she was? Just how desperate was she? Was this Nick’s game? To starve her until she begged for it? Then what? Lie on his back with a smirk while she ravished away? Guys as nice as Nick did not exist. Guys who moved as slow as Nick did not exist. There’d be a smirk, Gemma decided. There’d be a game. She’d already lost her pride, dignity and sexual sanity. What the hell was she doing? Nick pulled a lever to raise the grid door and they stepped out onto a slated oak platform. Directly opposite was a thick cement wall covered with vivid murals and a heavy, beautifully engraved, double wooden door. Nick rested a hand lightly on her hips. She slapped it away. He made a hands-off motion, grimaced at her, then shook his head and went to knock on the door. Gemma sidled up behind him and went onto her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. Why would he need to knock on his own door? A casually attired man of around forty opened the door. “Hey, Nick, good to see you again.†He stood back so they could enter. “Welcome to Jo Jo’s,†Nick said close to her ear. “The food is great. The music’s better. The best kept secret in New York.â€
This isn’t his apartment. The maître d’ ushered them to a candlelit table and pulled out her chair. Above, the roof was domed liked a planetarium with some faraway galaxy burnt into a black sky. To the side, couples swayed on a dance floor to the beat of a soul ballad beneath a shower of firefly lights. Gemma glanced across the table to where Nick was ordering a bottle of champagne. The dim lighting cast shadows in the valley of his sculpted cheek and caught his profile in a picture-perfect moment. “So,†Gemma said when he’d turned back to her, “when you say dinner and dance, you actually mean dinner and dance.†“As opposed to?†He reached over the table to fold her hand between his. “You don’t want to know,†she assured him dryly. “I thought you said you lived here.†“I do. Just around the corner, in fact.â€
I’m the sinner and he’s the saint. Nick had been nothing but a gentleman since she’d met him and she’d taken offense at every turn. She was as prickly as a live porcupine on a barbecue and he kept on coming back for more. He looked deeply into her eyes while his thumb stroked the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. Gemma gave up and gave in. “Would you like to dance before we order?†“You sure?†A slow grin spread across that rugged jaw. “You said you were rusty with the moves and dancing does involve
touching, you know.†Gemma shook her head on a low laugh. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.†He swept her onto the dance floor and into his arms. The music changed to a cabaret number. The couples around them livened up to twirls and dips, but Nick pulled her right up against him and ran his hands down her back. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and relaxed into his embrace. Their thighs were wedged together and his chest muscles rippled against her breasts as they moved, massaging warmth that spread through her like a slow-burning log fire. She lifted her cheek from his shoulder and met his mouth coming down. He claimed her lips with a kiss that started out in tender exploration and ended with her senses ravished two songs later. “I should feed you,†murmured Nick, his hands resting on the small of her back and his thumbs circling whorls of desire into her bones. “Eating’s overrated,†she said dreamily, rubbing up against the full length of his body while they swayed to the ghost of the last song and waited for the next one to begin. His eyes closed and his mouth crushed down on hers with a husky growl. When they came up for air, he moved his hands firmly to her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “What is your favorite color?†he asked hoarsely. “Green.†“Cats or dogs?†“Cats.†“Eggs sunny-side up or over hard?†“Scrambled.†“Favorite movie?†“Casablanca. No. Pride and Prejudice, but the one with Colin Firth. No, actually—I don’t know.†Some of the lethargic pre-sex heat left her bloodstream. “What’s with the pop quiz?†“I need to know you better.†“Trust me, Nick, you know me a whole lot better now than you did three songs ago.†“I need to know everything about you and I need to know it now.†Gemma shrugged her shoulders free from his hands. “Slow down, Nick, getting to know someone takes a relationship, not five seconds.†“I’ve been trying to go slow for weeks.†He dragged his hands through his hair and, as his gaze flickered over her body, a grin kicked up one side of his mouth. “You make going slow real hard.†Gemma’s heart sparked, part amusement and part something totally indefinable. “You’re too nice for your own good,†she scoffed lightly. “And far too nice for mine.†She stepped forward and curled her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush with his. A path of sexual friction heated up the full length of her as she pushed onto the very tip of her toes. “Is that your game? You holding out for marriage, Nick?†One brow shot up. There was definite loss of color to his face. Gemma took pity on him with a cheeky smile. “Because any slower and we’ll be going backward. While that might thrill Einstein, I’m going slightly—†He shut her up with a kiss that was so deep and urgent, she felt the tremor to her toes. He started pulling her from the dance floor before the kiss finished. “Nick, wait,†she called breathlessly as he sideswiped their table. “We can’t just leave. What about the champagne you ordered? What about our reservation?†He slowed down to nuzzle her neck. “My bag. At least let me get my bag.†His arm circled her waist and plastered their bodies together. He used his other hand to swipe the strap of her bag from where it hung over the chair and walked them to the door without giving up an inch of space. The man who’d let them in started in their direction, then changed his mind halfway with a wink for Nick and a smile for her. As soon as the door closed behind them, Nick pressed her to the wall in the deserted landing and brought his mouth down. She opened for him and their tongues stroked and clashed, sucked and twined. Gemma lost herself in the taste and scent of his invasion until a group of Jo Jo’s patrons arrived by elevator. Somehow, they walked the short distance to his apartment building with their bodies and lips meshed together. Conversation was snatched between plunging tongues and butterfly kisses. “You smell like cherries.†“Shampoo—Oh, yes,†moaned Gemma as Nick’s hands slid down her side and ended up cupping her bottom, lifting her right up off the ground. She tried wrapping her legs around his waist, but her skirt was too narrow. “I’m too heavy.†“You’re as light as a feather,†he grunted, but kept on walking, each step grinding his hardness into the juncture of her thighs. Swollen heat gathered there and then spread through her entire body. When she flung her arms around his neck, Nick swooped her into his arms and turned her inward, keeping her there with one arm while his other hand dug into his pocket for his keys. Her nipples squashed into the wall of his chest and the last breath squished from her lungs as he carried her up the stairs and into his apartment. Then she was standing on her own two feet with her back pressed to the paneled wood of the door. Nick took a long minute to look into her eyes before saying in a voice so husky, it trembled through her, “Are you sure?†In reply, Gemma walked her fingers up his shirt to the first button and undid it. Her gaze stayed locked on his as she undid enough buttons to slip her hands inside and thread her fingertips through the short curls at his chest. Nick went down and her fingers drifted up, grazing the slight roughness of his shaven cheeks and then sliding into the silky layers of his hair. A moment later he came up again, his hands caressing her thighs as he brought her skirt with him. He wedged one thigh between her legs and rubbed against her panties while his hands continued on, beneath the hem of her sequined halter top in a slow discovery until they each found a breast to cup and mold. Gemma gasped as a fresh wave of desire hit. “If you take it slow one second longer,†she said, her hands already fumbling with the buckle of his belt, “you’ll miss out on all the fun.†He rolled his thumbs over her nipples, chuckling softly. “I’m holding out for round two.†“Oh, no you don’t.†The slow pressure that built up where his thigh moved against the front of her panties had her close to panting, but she was not about to hump his leg. His belt finally came free. One impossibly tiny button and zip later, she dipped her fingers inside the front of his trousers. “Hmm, you’re a boxer man.â€
“Gemma…don’t.†Something close to pain etched across his clenched jaw as she palmed the length of supple hardness until wetness seeped from the tip. Nick had both their tops off in a spray of buttons and sequins. He hopped out of his trousers on the way to the sofa, dragging her panties down at the same time. No time to remove shoes or the skirt bundled at her waist.
Chapter Six
Gemma fumbled on the bedside table for her cell phone and peeped at the time. Ten past six. She snapped her eyes shut again. Her body was stiff and sated in more places than she knew she had. They’d gone out for omelets at one o’clock in the morning and then he’d wanted to talk. Thank God it was Thursday, the slowest day in the catering week. Perfect Parties had no functions on, which meant she could snuggle beneath the covers for another hour or two. A loud pounding echoed across the wooden planks of her apartment. “Helen…go away,†she grumbled, realizing what had wakened her. The pounding continued until Gemma dragged herself from the bed and to the door. Helen stood there, the color on her face a sickly yellow and her eyes glazed. “It’s Frank.†Gemma’s brain snapped awake and immediately thought the worst. Helen had caught him in bed with some slut. He’d packed his bags and run off with his daughter to an island made for two. Worse—he’d run off with his daughter and his daughter’s therapist to an island made for three! She pulled Helen inside by the hand. “The bastard.†Helen stood frozen where she’d been put, blinked once at Gemma and then spoke in a robotic monotone, “He’s been shot. Frank’s been shot. Oh my God, Frank’s been shot.†It took a moment for Gemma’s thoughts to change gear and then it felt as if someone had slammed her behind the knees. She had a million questions but didn’t ask a single one. The moment Gemma’s arms folded around her, Helen let out a long moan and convulsed into sobs against her shoulder. Ten minutes later, Gemma had calmed Helen enough to get the name of the hospital Frank had been taken to. New York Presbyterian was a short drive up First Avenue and Frank’s partner met them at the front desk. Kieran was a redheaded Irishman with one giant freckle blazoned across his left cheek. If you didn’t know he was in his late thirties, you’d guess his age at early twenties. He leaped forward on their approach and took Helen’s hands in his. “Frank’s gonna be okay. They’ve got him in surgery right now to remove the bullet. Doc said another centimeter and it would have spliced his gut. Lucky man, Frank, bless the gods.†As he spoke, Helen grew paler and paler. “A stomach wound…You never said it was a stomach wound. The bullet might have fragmented.†Her voice grew higher and higher. “He’ll get gangrene. In his stomach. He’ll get gangrene and die.†Gemma rubbed her arm. “Frank’s going to be just fine. You heard Kieran.†Her cell buzzed in the back pocket of the jeans she’d thrown on, but Gemma ignored it. “Kieran, could you get some coffee for Helen? Load the sugar,†she called as he rushed off. “Let’s sit down,†she said in the calmest tone she could muster. She wasn’t totally convinced Helen’s hysteria was unfounded. Once she’d settled Helen in a chair with coffee, she pulled Kieran aside and whispered, “Is Frank really okay?†“Doc said it’s a clean wound. Could’ve been real bad if—†She stopped him short with a punch to his chest. “Enough with the ifs. Let’s not give Helen more nightmares than she already has to deal with, okay?†He gave a quick look over his shoulder, then turned back to Gemma. “I told her on the phone that Frank’s gonna make it. Wouldn’t have called otherwise, ’cept Frank was asking after her.†“Then he was conscious?†“Woke up in the ambulance.†“That’s good, right?†Her cell buzzed again and this time she retrieved it and flipped it open. “Hey there, darling. Get home alright?†“Nick, hi, can I call you back later?†He went on instant alert. “What’s wrong? Where are you?†She quickly explained and when he said he was on his way, she insisted, “You really don’t have to. I’m going to hang here with Helen until Frank’s out of surgery. There’s nothing you can do.†“I know,†he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, that you’ve got everything you need.†Nick didn’t come empty-handed. He brought two large slabs of chocolate and had stopped at a Starbucks along the way. “Caffeine and sugar, the best medicine for shock,†he told Helen with a tender smile, setting down the cardboard tray of coffees and emptying a bag of assorted creamers and sugar packets on the table. Then he pecked Gemma on the cheek. “How’s he doing?†“Fine, so far we know.†“I don’t want to get in the way, just had to make sure you were taken care of.†He pulled her in for a hug that wrapped her in warmth and comfort. “Call me if you or Helen need anything.†Gemma promised to do so and stared after his departing back with a slack jaw. What flavor of man was Nick and why had no one shared the recipe? She shook her head and went to resume her vigil at Helen’s side. Kieran left for home and a shower, and promised to be back later. At one point the surgeon came out to explain to Helen that Frank was in recovery but still sedated. He took Helen aside to talk and when she returned, her face had regained some color. At lunchtime a nurse informed them that Frank was awake and Helen could go to him. Gemma stretched her legs out and gave up a small prayer of thanks. Helen would be lost without him. Maybe in this one instance there was something to be said for Madame Hooch’s insight. Even without the children Helen craved, her heart belonged to Frank and always would. When Helen returned, pushing through the swinging doors that cut the world off from the hospital’s inner corridors, Gemma’s heart crashed for the second time that day. Helen’s eyes were swollen and the glazed-over look from this morning had returned. Jumping up on shaky legs, Gemma walked to meet her. Frank had relapsed. Or maybe even worse. She tried to say something, but the words would not come. “He proposed.†Helen stood before Gemma, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Frank just proposed.†“He did what?†Gemma shook her head, wondering if Helen had regressed into psychotic delusion.
“He said he thought he’d bought it with that bullet and realized he couldn’t waste another second of his life. He wants to get married as soon as possible.†Gemma was still stuck on, “He did what?†“He wants children. A dozen or so and he wants to start at once.†“But—but what about his daughter?†Helen raised her hands, then dropped them at her side and started giggling through her tears. “Frank says he’s paid for enough therapy to last her through the first six babies and we have the rest of our lives to worry about the next.†Frank was making jokes. Frank had proposed. Helen was getting married. The facts finally sunk in and Gemma let out a squeal of excited laughter that brought a hiss and a stern look from the woman behind the reception desk.
Chapter Seven
The traffic was a nightmare and Jim Silverton was proving to be the client from hell. The man had two horns, one called ego and another called superego, and both insisted Nick’s fleet of courier vans and trucks sport the Silverton logo before he’d sign the deal. His mind working overtime, Nick sprinted up the stairs. Gemma would arrive any minute and he hadn’t had a chance to get to the store. The Silverton deal was worth a fortune, but he had other clients to consider. He’d spent the last three hours with marketing to come up with something that would satisfy everyone, when he should have been shopping for the romantic dinner he’d promised. Nick let himself in, scanned the apartment to confirm it reasonably neat, then rushed through a shower. The sliding banner graphics could work in Gravell’s favor. Not just for the Silverton deal, either. He could sell the illusion that each and every client carried their own fleet at the touch of button. Hell, personalized delivery vans might even tip the scale for the Blueberry King account. Excitement got him reaching for his cell, just as a loud knock came at the door. Hot damn, he was doing it again. His inability to mentally cut off from the office was a favorite amongst Candice’s gripes. The challenge of building Gravell into a competitive player had consumed him. He could have slowed down, he admitted, delegated more. But it wasn’t that easy to stop dead, change direction and hand your baby over into the arms of other people. Candice had never understood. Neither would any other woman, starting with Gemma. It was time, he decided. His baby was all grown up now and didn’t need every minute of every hour from him any longer. It was time to compartmentalize and close the lid on Gravell now and then, such as when he had a gorgeous woman waiting on his doorstep. Nick shrugged into a T-shirt as he cut long strides across the room, slowing to drag his finger along the top of the navy sectional marking off the living area as he passed. A soft smile in remembrance of Friday night’s activities was still in place when he opened the front door. “Hello, you,†he murmured, drinking in the sight before him. The soft daisy-patterned sundress folded delicately against two firm breasts. Breasts that were, he rapidly surmised, more responsible for holding up the dress than the dainty spaghetti straps skimming her creamy shoulders ever could. “Hi. I’m late,†Gemma apologized with a flushed grin. He fitted his hands around her slender hips and pulled her inside and into his arms. First he nuzzled the side of her neck, welcoming the now-familiar cherry scent. Then he worked his mouth across her cheek and dropped a simple kiss on her slightly parted lips before drawing away. “You look wonderful. How’s the happy couple?†“Happy and driving me crazy with wedding plans.†Nick dropped his arms to tug Gemma further inside by the hand. His blood turned to streams of fire and all he wanted was to grab a boat and go sailing with the tide. But something told him to go slow. Actually, the voice doing all the telling sounded uncannily like Candice’s, and at the time it had been yelling, not only at him, but the entire borough.
Once you get a woman into bed, you think that’s all they’re good for! Well, I’ve got news for you, BUSTER! Sex doesn’t replace a romantic dinner. “You just sit over there.†He pushed Gemma down into the sofa, then put some music on and poured her a glass of chardonnay. “I need to run out to the store quickly. Help yourself to more wine and I won’t be—†“You’re going out?†“There’s nothing to eat in the house. But I’ll be right back to cook the dinner I promised.†He made to turn around, stopped by a stroking finger on his arm. “Tell you what,†she whispered huskily against his ear. “Forget shopping and let’s do a slow dance. We can always rustle something up later.†He caught her hand and twirled her around, her back flush against his chest. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.†He swept her hair aside and lowered his head, was halfway through the kind of nibbling kiss that started at the curve of her shoulder and usually ended up in bed, when past experience cooled his blood. He’d promised a candlelit dinner and women were like elephants—they forgot nothing, no matter how good the sex was or who’d initiated it. He straightened and stepped away from temptation. “There’s nothing to rustle anything up from. I haven’t done any shopping in days.†Gemma spun about, tapping her bottom lip with a pale pink fingernail as she contemplated him. “I can see we’re not going anywhere interesting until the food issue has been resolved. Come on.†By the time Nick followed her into the kitchen, the fridge was open and half of Gemma was inside. The part sticking out was imminently desirable and not much hidden by the soft flowing material of her thigh-skimming sundress. “Let’s see…cheese, pickles…†As she spoke, containers were dumped onto the counter with careless abandon. “What’s this? Steak?†From yesterday’s barbecue with the boys. But what she intended to do with it, he had no idea. “Any bread?†She twisted up and kicked the fridge closed with a foot. “I’m not sure how fresh…†He faltered as she took a step toward him, a slab of cold steak in one hand and a semi-fresh tomato in the other, and pecked him full on the lips. “Sit,†she ordered. He obeyed. Would she really be happy with stale bread and a lump of meat? Watching her lithe body prancing around the kitchen, he thought that yes, just maybe yes, she would be. She reminded him of a kitten, shy, sexy, playful. And she definitely knew her way around a kitchen. A few minutes later, Gemma had the loaf of bread in a hot oven and a feast of diced pickles and cheese set on the table. While the bread refreshed itself, Gemma sliced the rump into paper-thin slivers and quartered the tomato. Finally, she brought out the bread, which now smelled fresher than the day he’d bought it, over to the table and sat down. “Something’s missing,†she said, glancing over the food. Candles, champagne and the smoked salmon he’d planned, thought Nick. “Sauce. We need a nice spicy sauce to complement the red meat.â€
Gemma shot up again and tackled the cupboards. Before he knew it, she’d crushed a handful of cornflakes into a bowl, added a medley of spices and mashed it to a creamy pulp with the dredges of some bottle of salad dressing she’d found lurking in the fridge. “All we need now is a good lager to wash this down with,†she said, sitting again. “Beer?†He stared. She nodded. He crossed to the fridge and brought back two bottles. As much as he wanted to believe, he couldn’t. Months from now—if they lasted that long—this scene would come back to haunt him. The day he’d subjected her to leftovers and beer from the bottle. Gemma swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and grinned up at him. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Sometimes I forget that food is more than just a job.†“You are one unique lady.†Nick’s heart started to beat at a dangerous tempo. “Really?†She took a swig from the bottle and wiped a spot of sauce from her mouth with the back of her hand. “Most people find me perfectly normal. I hope.†Her gaze was on him, dark and smoky with desire. Normal? Not in his world. But maybe he’d just had bad luck up till now. Or he’d been dating on the wrong continent. “You finished with that?†Gemma looked down at the half-eaten sandwich. “You want it?†“I want you.†This time they didn’t make it to the sofa, they didn’t even make it out of the kitchen. Dishes went flying, rapidly replaced by long legs and a short skirt. He stroked a finger all the way down from the crevice of her breasts to just below her navel, his body wired from a hunger that could only be fed by the woman gracing his table. Gemma propped herself up on one elbow and crooked a finger at him. “Come here, you.†“Patience,†he drawled, his hand working up her long, toned thigh, “is a virtue.†She reached out and grabbed the hand from its slow, savoring pace, pulling his body with her as she eased back into a lying position. “If I wanted virtue,†she murmured breathlessly, “I wouldn’t be looking for it on the kitchen table.†“Point taken.†He kissed her mouth closed, then tasted his way down the curve of her throat. When he reached the sensitive hollow at the base, her lower body arched to rub hard between his thighs. She groaned, urgently grabbing around his waist until her hands found their way beneath his T-shirt. Her nails scraped down his spine, but the only ache was a throbbing pressure a whole lot further south. He slid the thin straps over her shoulders and moved his kisses to her bared breasts. His blood thickened, pulsing heat through him as he delved beneath the hem of her skirt, fingers grazing the satin soft skin of her inner thigh as he inched higher and higher toward his goal. The teasing foreplay he’d had in mind would have to wait for round two. In one fluid movement, he tugged her panties down around her knees and onehandedly unzipped his jeans. Her gaze smoldered as he fumbled in his back pocket for a condom and opened the wrapper. When he brought her legs up around his waist, she hooked tight, lifting herself up and onto him as he entered her. She started coming on his first thrust and was still shuddering around him as he rocked through the last wave of his own tremors.  “No need to panic.†Gemma loped across the floury floor and patted Paul on the back. “It’s only burnt pie.†Paul braced his hands on his hips and glared. “Thirty burnt pies. And what’s up with you?†Gemma averted her face to hide the beginnings of a smile. She couldn’t help it. Nothing could blunt her humor today. “I keep calm in the midst of a storm and something’s the matter?†“Tessa!†Tessa scurried over from the workbench and hunched in front of the industrial oven. “Paul…I told you to keep an eye on the pies.†“I thought you’d set the timer.†One hand left his hip to flounder in the air. “I did.†Tessa rounded up to face him for a few moments of heated silence. “Well, I didn’t hear anything ringing. Did you?†Paul leaned forward, sinking an accusing glare into her reddening face. Gemma sliced a hand between the warring pair, suddenly wondering at the tangible tension in the air. “Stop.†“What?†Both heads jerked in her direction with expressions betraying their guilt. “Sorry,†Paul muttered to Gemma. “It wasn’t me you were yelling at.†Gemma gave a pointed look in Tessa’s direction. “Fine.†He turned, paused and then his voice softened. “My fault, Tess. I did say I’d keep an eye on them.†Tessa smiled easily, forgiving him all too quickly for Gemma’s liking. Reminding her of how young her apprentices were. “What do we do now?†Tessa frowned into the oven again. “Now we have a pie festival without pie. Simple as pie.†Gemma laughed. “Get it? Simple as pie…no pie…pie festival…forget it.†She waved them away from her happy space and went back to her coffee. After a few minutes the whispering couple joined her again. “But what are we going to do?†Tessa fretted. “Yeah, we were going to impress Gepperson.†Paul’s voice stretched into a sulk. “No chance of that happening now.†“There’s always a chance,†Gemma countered, rubbing her chin in deep thought. “I’m happy, not deliriously stupid. I’ve got a plan.†“Let’s hope it’s a quick plan. We’ve got less than an hour.†“I’m well aware of that.†At times like these, she wasn’t the boss. All their jobs were at stake and everyone got a say. But what she had in mind was plain genius. “We’ve still got stock, right?†“Uh-huh.†Their unanimous agreement was followed by skeptical nodding. “Tessa, get out all the bottles of rum and whiskey and whatever else we have. Paul, I need glass bowls, the fancy ones.†An hour later, the Hilton’s reception floor flooded with every name in the culinary industry worth mentioning. Big chain stores from as far as Denver, family-run delicatessens who’d made big names for themselves, not to mention the muffin tycoons. A great turnout for Gepperson’s yearly blueberry pie festival. The blueberry pie giant had franchised their way across the Atlantic and now they were looking to expand their product range into puddings, dips, cakes and whatever else the lucky winner of their contract dreamed up. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and all she had to do was
come up with something great, something unique, something daring. She could take Perfect Parties from small-time catering into branded recipes linked to the phenomenal reach and advertising budget of Gepperson. She could spend her days creating food that would be tasted across the world instead of serving food downtown. She could take time out to teach Paul and Tessa instead of burying their passion underneath thankless hours of menial labor. Gemma stood to one side, a wide smile hiding her frayed nerves. Gepperson had given her this opportunity to test both her talent and creativity. He wanted an unknown name that wouldn’t dwarf his and he wanted someone who’d stamp a new craze on the blueberry market he’d cornered twenty years ago.
Paul and Tessa saved me with that timer fiasco! Gepperson doesn’t want another pie bake. Or so she continued to reassure herself as she watched people milling around with dazed expressions between bowls of blueberries soaked in different liquors. Alongside the bowls were stacks of tiny plates and toothpicks. Finally, she saw a man prick a blueberry and put it in his mouth. He turned to the woman next to him and, whatever he said, had her reaching for a toothpick. A short while later, the festivities were well under way thanks to the magic of alcohol. Whether this was good or bad, Gemma had still to wonder as she nervously contemplated Mr. Gepperson’s approach. He’d been cornered by prospective clients since the first spate of guinea pigs had tested their palate and she could only guess at the heated conversations surrounding him. “Gemma, we need to talk.†Armando Gepperson stood before her, businesslike and serious. She cleared her throat. “Of course, Mr. Gepperson. Monday morning?†“Right now, young lady,†he barked as only a sixty-year-old tycoon could get away with. She followed him to a side room leading off the main reception area. “Champagne?†he offered as a wide grin swept across his wrinkled face. “No one else seems interested and I’ve got cases of the stuff.†She accepted the glass and remained silent, shifting from foot to foot. Then he roared, a loud gruff laugh that filled the tiny area. “Who wants champagne when they’ve got the best vintage blueberries on offer? Ingenious. What can I say?†Still silent, she offered a trepid smile and gulped down the entire glass of shimmering gold liquid. The old man was well known for his strange ways and what started out as seemingly good news more often than not turned sour. Or so the rumors went. “I’ve been telling that bunch of cronies on my board for years that we need new blood. Just because we sell pie, doesn’t mean we have to eat the damn stuff at every function. There’s more to life than pie, I’ve told them, and I intend to taste it before I die.†He narrowed his eyes into hers, “That’s not as unlikely as you might think, at my age.†He let out another roar. “So…†Gemma wet her lips. “You liked what we did?†“More than like it.†He drained his champagne and deposited the glass on the nearest side table. “I love the way you think. Maybe we could even come up with a range of liquor desserts, if I can get the licensing sorted. You’ve got the contract, little darling. We’ll try it for a year and then consider promoting Perfect Parties into a bona fide partnership with Gepperson.â€
Chapter Eight
Helen spun around in the tiny kitchen, the mug she’d been washing still in her hand and dripping soapy water onto the floor. “What did you say?†“I said—†“Never mind, I heard exactly what you said. But do you know what this means?†“Yes!†Gemma giggled, enjoying the light-headed dizziness attacking her. “The future I’ve always planned for Perfect Parties is finally just there, on the horizon, but definitely in sight.†“And also,†Helen said dryly, “Gepperson promised to promote you to a full partnership, the emphasis on promoted. Madame Hooch’s predictions are coming true one by one.†“If you say so.†Not even Helen’s ceaseless ranting about Madame Hooch could dampen Gemma’s mood today. Helen turned back to the sink. “You and Nick are pretty tight these days.†“Yeah, I guess we are.†She hadn’t given it much thought, but she’d fallen into this relationship hard and fast. Too hard and fast? “He’s a great guy, fun to be around.†Nick made it easy to forget just how fine she’d been doing on her own, but she didn’t want to forget, she didn’t want to lose the comfort of knowing she could stand alone. No guy, no matter how great or how much fun, was a necessity. “But, you know, it’s only been a couple of weeks.†Helen glanced over her shoulder to raise a brow. “Six.†“You’re counting?†“I’m watching out for you, honey.†She turned from the sink to give Gemma her full attention. “Because he’s going to dump me,†Gemma stated flatly. “I admit, I wish he’d just get on with it already. Before you build him up in your head as this wonderful, perfect man who can do no wrong, who wouldn’t leave unless there was something wrong with you.†“Give me credit for more self-worth than that.†Gemma grabbed a towel and started drying mugs furiously. “This isn’t about self-worth, Gemma, it’s about hurting so bad that you need something to blame or go crazy. It’s about loving someone so much that your heart won’t allow you to get mad at him or blame him for being a total ass. I don’t want Nick to do another Simon on you.†“Considering I’m not in love, blaming or mad at either of them, you get your wish.†Gemma threw the towel down and marched from the kitchen, muttering over her shoulder, “I’m sick to death of living under the dire warnings in Madame Hooch’s lucky guesses. I’m delighted for you and Frank, you know I am, but I won’t let an old woman in Brooklyn dictate my life.†Why couldn’t life be simple? Meet man, fall in love, live happily ever after. But no, Gemma had to contend with cosmic forces dictating when, where and how she was allowed to fall in love. She didn’t even want forever, she just wanted a laugh and good sex without Madame Hooch whispering in her ear. She would not be devastated when—if he broke up with her. She enjoyed Nick. She didn’t need him. Maybe it was time to slow them down a bit, reclaim some space in her life to remember how good it was with or without a man.  Only Tuesday and she felt flatter than a cake without its baking powder. When Nick had called yesterday morning to make plans for the week, she’d feigned a heavy workload and slotted him in for Saturday evening. Nick was far too nice, far too considerate and a whole darn lot too accommodating. She was flatbread for the week when she could have been Victorian sponge. She’d done this to herself, but Nick hadn’t said a word to try and stop her. He hadn’t protested at the way she’d deftly claimed some of his prime weekend time for herself either, she remembered, and felt slightly better. Was it possible their lives had become so entwined in six short weeks? How had that happened? When had that happened? Thankfully, Perfect Parties was chaotically busy for the rest of the week. Nervous about giving up the catering side completely until the Gepperson contract was signed, she’d taken on three new assistants to free herself up for research and testing. Breaking point came Friday evening. She dialed the first five digits of Nick’s cell phone before coming to her senses with a little help from Helen. “Who are you calling?†“No one.†Gemma dropped the handset as if it had suddenly caught on fire. The suspicion in her friend’s glare was worth a thousand accusations. Gemma relented without further prodding. “Why hasn’t he called? It’s been five days and not a word.†“Maybe because you told him not to.†Helen gave an unsympathetic shrug. “Your plan’s ingenious, don’t go messing with it now.†“There’s a plan?†“Slow withdrawal. Let Nick think you’re tiring of him so he’ll jump in and dump you before you get there first.†“That’s not the plan,†snapped Gemma. “There is no plan.†She’d wanted to take a step back, to assess and regroup, not eradicate Nick from her life. Darn it all, isn’t he even missing me? Gemma reminded herself that tomorrow was Saturday. Nick day, as she’d come to think of it.  Saturday night came at last. Gemma studied the floral cami and black cargo pants she’d optimistically selected an hour ago in the floor-length cheval mirror. With
the late summer chill settling in after sunset, it was just too cold to go venturing outdoors like this. But, darn, the new top looked good on her and the butterflies in her stomach agreed. Had Nick found a temporary replacement to last him through the week? Only last night she’d read a Cosmo article on how guys thought about sex once every three minutes or something equally ridiculous. Roughly, that meant he’d thought about sex 3,360 times since their last date. Could she really expect him to have remained faithful during all those thoughts with no Gemma to satisfy the need? The doorbell cut through her paranoia. Faithful or not, Nick was waiting. She swept a few stray hairs from her forehead and hurriedly grabbed a jacket from the closet. When she opened the door, Nick was leaning against the frame, all dimpled grin and looking even more yummy than she remembered. His eyes were grayish-blue this evening, drawing color from the deep blue of his shirt. The collar of the trench coat he wore was cuffed beneath straggled black curls, lending an air of mysterious danger to his darkly handsome looks. “I’ve missed you,†he murmured. Gemma beamed a smile at him. She was supposed to be keeping her feet firmly on the ground. Instead, she felt as if she were walking on air and didn’t care if she never felt the ground beneath her again. “It’s been a crazy week,†she said. “Tell me about it.†Nick dragged her close in one powerful movement and brushed his lips against her cheek. “You won’t believe how often I’ve thought about doing this in the last few days.†“Three thousand three hundred and sixty times?†she offered before her brain had the decency to butt in. He pulled back, sporting a boyish grin. “Someone’s been reading Cosmo.†“Since when do you read Cosmo?†“I don’t.†He laughed outright at her confusion. “They must print the same damn article every year. And every year we men get branded as sex-crazed animals.†The warmth started low and spread until her cheeks were ablaze. But still, she couldn’t resist. “Is it true?†“Would you like it to be?†His voice was raw against her ear. Time to stop the conversation that was digging craters into her go-slow resolution. “We’d better get going.†Firm and proper. “Hmmm.†He hooked an arm around her waist and walked her down the stairs. “We’ll conclude this conversation later tonight.†Smoldering eyes trawled her body. Who was she kidding? The more her mind tried to slow down, the more her pulse sped up. She tucked herself into his side as they cleared the lobby. “What are we going to see?†“Your choice.†Nick handed over his phone, already opened to the listing of a local theater. She scrolled down a couple of thumbnails. “There’s a rerun of The Green Zone…I never got around to seeing it.†His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in closer as they hit the sidewalk. “You do know that’s an action movie.†“You forget Matt Damon,†she said with a giggle. “In uniform.†“Wouldn’t you rather see a romantic comedy or something?†“You jealous of Matt Damon in action?†“Hell, yes!†She laughed out loud, looking up to find his gaze on her. Folded in the warmth of his embrace and oblivious to the sounds of honking cabs and the crowded sidewalk, she couldn’t come up with a single good reason why she’d put him off this last week. Caught up in each other, they slowed down until they were barely moving. His brow wrinkled as his eyes searched hers. “You play poker?†The question was so random, she laughed again. “Are we talking about the card game or the excuse men use to huddle close together while they gossip and choke on carbon monoxide?†“Ah, okay.†His brow cleared. Not so random, then. And he seemed to think she’d answered, although she wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been asking. But he still kept her tucked in tight at his side as he stepped up the pace, his jaw brushing the top of her head, and for now Gemma was fine with that.
Chapter Nine
The sun chose to grace New York City with its presence after three days of nonstop rain. Gemma and Helen, reclining on deck chairs beneath the hundred-year-old oak in Frank’s backyard, were happily making the most of it. Autumn was starting to show its colors, touching the garden with golds and reds. With a leisurely yawn, Gemma uncurled her legs to pull up into a semi sitting position. It was rare to have a Saturday off, and when Frank had invited her over for a barbecue, she’d been reluctant to spend the day without Nick. So, despite the apprehension of subjecting him to Helen’s disapproval, she’d brought Nick along. Helen had been on her best behavior. No mention of Madame Hooch and no snide attacks to pull him down a notch or two in Gemma’s eyes. But Helen had it all wrong. As much as she liked Nick, she was keeping her heart shuttered and her eyes wide open. She’d only recently managed to carve a little weekend time for herself from his social schedule and he still hadn’t introduced her to those guys he went drinking with at least three times a week. He was fun, attentive and darn fine in bed, but she’d been boxed and labeled as the good-time girl. He never even spoke to her about his work. Nick wouldn’t be sticking around for long and she knew it. When a man took that long to let you in, chances were he wouldn’t get around to it at all. Her eyes strayed to the two men standing around the barbecue at the far end of the yard. Frank was proudly wearing the hubba hubba hubby apron he’d received from his buddies down at the precinct and looking every bit the domestic husband he’d be in a week’s time. Nick, his favorite Levi’s loosely skimming steel-ridged thighs and a white T-shirt hanging just below the zipper, looked the exact opposite. A sleek panther capable of outrunning anyone with a mind to tame him. The men, engrossed in a conversation that erupted into laughter at regular intervals, seemed unaware of the differences she saw. “They’re hitting it off nicely.†“They are. I have to say—and this goes against all my principles—you and Nick look good together.†She rolled her head toward Gemma. “Have you invited him to the wedding?†“I’m still thinking about it.†Helen exhaled a slow sigh. “At least you’re considering Madame—†“The only thing I’m considering is how tricky a wedding date can be.†“Nothing like the pressure of a wedding to scare a man off. Oh, hell,†Helen clapped a hand over her lips. “I’m sorry, me and my big fat mouth.†Gemma laughed her off. “Get over Simon, okay? I did years ago and I promise you, it’s easier than it looks.†“He’s a toad and nothing’s easy about what you went through.†“He was young. He proposed too soon and didn’t know how to take it back.†“Stop making excuses for the bastard.†Gemma went quiet for a while. She hadn’t stopped loving Simon just because he’d broken her heart. But yes, maybe she’d kept on loving him a little too long after he’d left and wasted a little too much time. Her eyes sought out Nick again. She didn’t need to be running her hands all over his lean, hard body to know how good he felt, to know how perfectly they fit into each other. She didn’t need to see his face to know his chin would be dimpled with the laugh he’d just bellowed out, that his eyes would be ringed in flecks of pale blue right now. As slow as Nick was to share with her, it was more than she’d had in ages. She’d convinced herself that standing alone was just fine, better, but she was no longer so sure about that. She couldn’t go back to being serially single and pretending she didn’t need a relationship, a Nick, in her life. Perhaps Helen had been right all along. She’d been hiding, scared, her confidence crushed along with her heart five years ago. Problem was, admitting it now didn’t change a darn thing. Didn’t make her suddenly brave and strong, suddenly ready to go out in public naked, her heart, soul and trust bared to the world at large. Gemma sighed and turned a bright smile on Helen. “Enough about the past. We were talking about your big day.†“Did you go for your fitting yesterday?†“I did. I also took another peek at your dress while I was there. It looks more gorgeous every time I see it,†Gemma murmured, her gaze traveling across the yard as Nick left the barbecue and made his way toward her. “We’re ready for the steaks,†Frank called out to him. “In the fridge, bottom shelf.†“The lace on the bodice gives it a vintage feel, don’t you think?†Helen was saying. “It’s called Ancient Lace.†“Sure thing,†Nick called back over his shoulder, tussling her hair as he swept past on his way inside. Her gaze followed him for a moment before coming back to Helen. “The lace is beautiful.†“It’s my something old.†“Isn’t that cheating?†“I’m running out of places to put things. The new strand of pearls from my dad, the borrowed matching earrings from Aunt Mercy, the blue garter from—†“That’s it!†Gemma bolted upright. “My Granny Tilly has the perfect something old for you.†Helen gave her a one-eyed squint. “The Granny Tilly who died before you were born?†“The very one.†Gemma flopped down on the recliner with a mischievous smile. “Don’t look so worried, I’m not suggesting we go grave-robbing.†“Am I interrupting, ladies?†Gemma glanced around to find Nick close and his silver gaze instantly drugging her senses. “We were talking about the wedding next Saturday. You will be my date, won’t you? I’m Helen’s maid of honor, so you’ll be on your own for a lot of the time and subjected to nosy questioning,†Gemma gushed into his silence. Inviting Nick is a tactical error. “You’re right, it’s not fair to ask you along. Weddings can be so…difficult.†“I can handle a few old aunts asking if we’ll be next.†“Of course you’ve got better things to do. Forget I mentioned—†He was agreeing to be her date? “You sure?†“Promise not to tackle the other girls for the bouquet?†Laughter rumbled in his throat, stretched to his grin. “Not likely, what with my stiletto heels and all.â€
“You’ll be wearing stilettos?†His eyes raked over her body, all the way down to her calves and back up. “Count me in.† Tuesday night, Gemma called Helen over from across the hallway and pulled out the box of Granny Tilly’s recipes, stacks and stacks of loose pages filled with squiggly handwritten treasures. Hiding at the bottom, exactly as she remembered it, was the leather-bound album she was after. She dusted off the cover and flipped it open. “What do you think?†Helen’s fingers stroked the air above the strip of Champagne lace as if afraid to touch. “It’s lovely.†A sharp tug and the garter her granny had worn over seven decades ago came free from its lick of glue. “See the tiny pearls embedded all the way around? They match your necklace even though no one will see.†She pressed the lace garter into Helen’s hands with a warm smile. “Just remember not to throw this one.†“I’ll take good care of it,†Helen promised. Before putting the album back, Gemma flicked through some pages of the black-and-white photos. Helen stopped her progress to peer at a photo of Granny Tilly posing in a manner typical of her era, body stiff and caught in profile, hair scraped up into curls and her face turned directly toward the camera. “She must have been about twenty then,†Gemma said. Helen flicked her gaze between Gemma and the photo a couple of times. “You’re the splitting image of your Granny Tilly.†“Really?†Gemma looked again and shrugged. “There’s some resemblance, sure. She is my grandmother, after all. My mother swears the cooking gene skips a generation and I inherited mine from Granny Tilly.†“That’s not all you inherited.†Helen dragged Gemma to the mirror in her bedroom. “You’ve inherited her eyes, nose, hair, cheekbones. You even have the same beauty mark on the wing of your left eyebrow.†Helen’s voice dropped to a whisper. “This is what Madame Hooch was talking about when she said you’d already come into an inheritance.†This time, Gemma’s automatic retort stuck halfway up her throat.
A witch’s birthmark, some might say. Must be so, because you bewitched me the moment I first laid eyes on you. It’s just a mole, Nick. An adorable, priceless mole, darling. She held the album up to compare the photo with her reflection. Goose bumps prickled her skin from head to toe. Granny Tilly had given her something far more valuable than her classic features and a mole. Her natural ability to blend flavors to create a burst of new tastes, her passion and talent, the essence of her culinary gene. Gemma backed away from the mirror. Her legs connected with the bed and she slumped down gratefully. “Everything Madame Hooch saw is real, everything she predicted has come true.†Helen left the room and returned with a shot of whiskey and a grimace. “Not everything, honey, not yet.†“I know. Nick is going to dump me.†She’d already guessed as much without any cosmic help. Gemma threw back the contents of the glass. The golden liquid hit her bloodstream at full tilt and she waited for the burn to fuse her Jell-O-bones back together. “And then you’ll meet the guy that’s really meant for you,†Helen reminded her. “My soul mate,†Gemma tested on her tongue. But no, she still didn’t do soul mates. The idea of a Nick Upgrade, however, found a snug corner in her mind. A Nick who didn’t keep her shut out from the rest of his life, a Nick who might just stick around, a Nick who wasn’t predestined to break her heart and dump her. “I want that one,†she said slowly, still working through the details in her head. “I want the other Nick.†Helen gave her a blank look. “I want the whole man, the love, the kids, the happily-ever-after,†said Gemma. A flicker of doubt tightened her throat, but she cast it out. “I want it all.†If Madame Hooch was right about everyone and everything else, why couldn’t she be right about this? That thought was like adding a teaspoon of baking powder to the basic needs, wants and urges she’d flatlined years ago. “I don’t even have to go out naked.†“Honey,†Helen came to sit beside her on the bed, “you’re starting to worry me.†“There’s nothing to worry about.†Gemma choked back a giggle. No reason for worry, self-doubt or hysteria. “I’ll be dressed in vintage Hooch.†Nick had given her a preview of how much she’d been missing out on. Madame Hooch promised the full-length feature. Gemma was suddenly, desperately, ready to take heed of what Madame Hooch and the universe had planned for her. She nibbled her lip, turning a frown on Helen. “I need to get rid of Nick.†“No, Nick has to dump you. If you change your karma, you might never find the true love Madame Hooch promised. You have to remember that your real soul mate is around the corner…but only if you let fate take its natural course. You have to let Nick dump you, honey.†“He’d better do it quick.†Now that she knew what she wanted, now that she could actually get what she wanted, she was in a hurry. Besides…“I’m not all that keen on waiting until Nick gets around to the heart-breaking part.†“Maybe there’s a way to speed him on his way and still stay inside the rules,†Helen mused.
Chapter Ten
Nick pushed through the frosted glass doors. The familiar, stale air hit him square in the face and he drew his first easy breath in hours. The interior was musty, the lighting dim from dust-stained shades silhouetting the velvet banquettes along the walls. Rustic wooden tables were scattered across the rest of the floor, and the chairs had been rearranged at will by the patrons of Patrick’s. Nick let the door swing closed behind him and stepped farther inside, scanning the room until he found Gus and the others at a booth over on the far end. Content that one part of his world had remained right side up, he rested an elbow on the bar counter. “The usual?†Nick grunted an affirmative. He felt his insides begin to unwind as he watched Patrick O’Hara pull a pint of Smithwick’s and stand it to drip. Patrick leaned across the bar, scratching whiskered cheekbones with his fingertips while the ball of his palm supported his chin. “Where’s the lass tonight?†“Gemma?†“Aye, and what happened to the wee Candice, then?†Patrick’s eyes twinkled with the same Irish spirit that lilted his voice after more than two decades off the emerald island. His grin revealed crooked teeth and a hint of understanding. Nick returned a weak smile. “Candice left me a couple of months back.†“Aye…†Patrick scratched his beard some more. “Is it to be Gemma, then?†“Not anymore,†he said gruffly.
What a hell of a day. He rubbed at his eyebrows, but that did nothing to rub the memory from his head. “How’s my ale doing?†The older man gave him a thoughtful look, then straightened to wipe the pint glass and hand it over. “I’ll be sending another over in ten minutes, will I?†“Make it a round for the table.†Nick wended his way to the guys’ table, absently greeting the various regulars without stopping to chat. As he approached the corner booth, Gus looked up from the conversation and cut off midsentence. “Hey,†Jackson called out, shifting along the banquet seat to make space. A frown dominated his broad face. “What you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at a wedding?†“Can’t say I blame a fellow.†Billy’s sly grin cut away to shame as Gus and Jackson glared him down. Nick blocked the questions with a scowl and slid in beside Jackson. “Let’s just say, the honeymoon’s over.†When he came up from draining his beer in one long gulp, it was to face three pairs of eyes fixed on him. “What?†“She watches war movies with you.†“She drinks beer from the bottle.†“She serves up sex on the kitchen table.†“She was so perfect—†“What did you do this time?†Nick’s jaw dropped. “None of you have even met Gemma, so why don’t you take her side on this, huh?†They managed to look contrite.
For about two seconds. Gus came in first with a smug, “Your words, not ours.†“I never said she was perfect and—†Nick’s brow shot up at Billy, “—I never told you about us doing it on the table.†“I knew it.†Billy gave Gus a high five. “What did I tell you about dating a chef? You owe me ten big ones.†Gus dug into his pocket. “Damn, I wish I was single again.†“You’re always wishing that,†Jackson remarked smartly, raising a unanimous cheer around the table. Another round of drinks arrived, momentarily diverting the focus from Nick and his troubles. Despite their habitual grumbling about iron balls and chains, his friends were all happily married. Why else would they be so eager to see him join the ranks of matrimonial bliss?
Gus: Can’t have you happier than a pig in shit while we’re digging the mud bath. Billy: We’re a team. One suffers, we all suffer together. Jackson: I need you, man, to make up the numbers, you know? The stats say that one in four couples get divorced. The way I figure, once you’re hitched, my number’s up and I’m a free man. As much as they joked around the topic, Nick knew they were committed to their women. Billy swiped a backhand across his mouth and set down his half-empty glass. “You gonna tell us what happened or leave us to figure it out by ourselves?†Gus chuckled. “That could be dangerous. Fun, but dangerous.†“I wish I knew.†Nick reached for one of the beer mugs in the center of the table. The day had started out full of promise and ended in a nightmare. At least he’d left quietly. She had seemed rather taken aback. Maybe even hurt. Should he feel guilty? Nah. He slammed down his second empty mug, slumped back with folded arms and stared at his friends, feeling grumpy, probably looking grumpy, and not giving a damn because that was exactly what he was. “Everything was great. We were in the chapel. Gemma was up front with Frank and Helen. She looked good, good enough to eat—†“Helen?†“No, you idiot. Gemma.†“Oh.†“Yeah, well. Where was I?†“Eating Gemma?†Jackson prompted dryly. “Do you want to hear this or not?†Nick cleared his throat, shifted lower into his seat, then shot them a sharp look, just in case. “So, there we were, Gemma was just Gemma…and suddenly everything changed. Just like that.†He snapped his fingers. “Gemma disappeared and—â€
“Gemma’s gone?†“She ran out on you?†“She did a Candice?†Nick sighed, long and hard. “No, she’s still there. Or, at least, someone who looks like her is.†“Okay, man, now you’ve really lost me.†No, Nick thought, now I’ve really lost my mind. He juggled his gaze between the men he called his closest friends. Why was he feeling so crappy about this? She hadn’t done a Candice on him, as Billy had so kindly phrased it. And if it was time to move on…? Gus reached across to punch him in the arm. “Start at the beginning,†Billy said, half-standing to wave Patrick down for yet another round. “You were at the wedding and…?†“And,†Nick said slowly, drumming a numbing beat on the table with his fingers, “I hadn’t seen Gemma the whole week—†“Ah, right. You were at that global distribution convention in Milan.†Nick nodded. “Anyway, everything was fine, we spoke on the phone every evening…†Silence covered the table as the guys hung on to his every word. Nick scuffed his feet on the floor. “Something happened between last Sunday and today, and I wish I knew what the hell it was.†He pulled himself upright again, restlessly checking the progress of their drink order. The sight of four beer glasses overflowing on the drip stand placated him. She’d joked about the wedding date, they’d laughed at the burden singles had to endure on such occasions. She’d promised to go easy on him. A steel glint hardened his gaze as his mind traveled back to where the nightmare had begun. “When the ceremony was over, I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the bridal party to come out…
Three hours earlier The mood was upbeat. The priest had kept the ceremony short and sweet, the groom had kissed the bride and everyone was eagerly waiting for them to sign the register and exit the church so the real celebrating could commence. Gemma, who’d remained behind to witness the signing, came out ahead and ran down the stairs and into his arms. Nick hugged her closely, inhaling the scent of fresh blossoms surrounding her as he murmured, “You look beautiful.†She twisted around in his arms to face the church again. “You should be telling that to the bride.†“I will,†he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist, her back flush to his chest. “As soon as I’ve told you how much I’ve missed you.†“How was Milan?†“I don’t want to talk about work. I’d much rather—†“Ooh. Here they come.†She wriggled free and moved closer to the steps. Left behind, he crossed his arms and rolled back on the balls of his heels, content to admire the smooth curve of her spine revealed by the almost backless dress. The ivy-green silk molded her slender hips, then flared slightly to fold around her legs, an uneven hem stopping well above the knees in places to emphasize slim, toned legs. His libido jerked awake, reminding him how long the week apart had been. He pulled his gaze away from Gemma and his thoughts away from what he’d rather be doing right now, to give his full attention to the bride as she descended the steps. Halfway down, Helen paused. She smiled and waved at everyone below her, then called out, “Single ladies, please.†Time to throw the bouquet. Nick forced a casual chuckle to his lips. At least he knew Gemma would be hiding somewhere in the back row. Then he chided himself for the foolish worry. Old wives’ tales. Even if Gemma did catch the flowers, so what? Her idea of a good night out was stale sandwiches and beer. She chose action movies over romantic comedies. Nick chuckled a little more heartily. The idea of her rushing to catch the bridal bouquet was ridiculous. Helen searched the ladies below her, then spun around to face her smiling husband and lifted a hand holding the delicate arrangement of pink rosebuds high above her head. Nick chose that moment to find amusement in the few single women clambering up front for the honor of being next in line. His wry smile didn’t last long. Was that…Gemma? Right up front, jumping up and down. “Here! Here!†Nick staggered backward. Blinked long and hard. But when he opened his eyes, she was still there, visible above everyone else in her impossibly high stilettos. Faking this side and that, no one stood a chance of getting through her front line of defense. Stunned, he watched events unfold in slow motion, that cruel thing horror does to time to make the pain last as long as possible. The bouquet hurtled up and over Helen’s head in a high arc, then veered slightly left of Gemma. She disappeared from sight, slipping beneath the sea of people and for a moment he breathed again. She’s such a joker. He tried to laugh. His throat was too parched. He tried again. Hell, he would laugh, even if it killed him. Then, out of nowhere, Gemma rose up in a mighty leap, forty-five degrees to the side with arms flung high and wide and made a save worthy of a million-dollar contract. “Did you see me, darling?†Gemma connected him from the side, shoving something in his face. He pushed away, forced himself to draw air and immediately regretted it. A waft of rose perfume, the same scent he’d buried himself in earlier from the flowers pinning Gemma’s hair in place, now suffocated him. He slapped the bouquet aside. “What was that about?†Her triumphant smile faded into a pout. “I caught the bouquet.†He stared at her. “I know you caught the bouquet. How could I miss it? How could anyone miss it?†Her eyes grew wider, then murky as a tear escaped. “I did it for us, darling. I thought you’d be happy.†Not tears. Anything but tears. “What in hell are you talking about?†Another tear formed in the corner of her eye, then rolled down her cheek and settled on the upper curve of her lip. Very gently, with the edge of his thumb, Nick rubbed the tear away. His thumb went on to trace the outline of her full lips and the next moment
his mouth was on hers, his tongue tracing the same path. The smell of roses became an enticing fragrance once again, flavoring his deep kiss. When the kiss ended, her upturned face showed no trace of the earlier distress. Sultry eyes sparkled seductively into his and it took all his willpower to not throw her over his shoulder and hotfoot it out of there. He looked around and saw the newly married couple, littered with rose petals, slipping into a ribbon-wrapped convertible. His libido ebbed slightly as he squinted at Gemma. What had she been thinking? Was it just a passing moment of wedding madness, or should he consider this the first lesson in life after your girl’s best friend gets married?  “You know what women are like,†Nick said harshly, jumping out of the story to inform his audience. “One wedding not even down and they’re already planning the next one.†When he glanced around the table for support, he found none. Billy squirmed next to him, his black eyes hidden by the long fringe flopping over his forehead. Gus fidgeted with his empty glass and Jackson held fast with satirically raised eyebrows. Nick’s mood plunged another foot. Where was the male camaraderie when he needed it? “Aren’t you overreacting?†That was from Jackson as he leaned back and rustled through his trouser pockets. A moment later he brought out a stick of gum. “Everything happened exactly like I said,†Nick insisted. The men watched the familiar ritual as Jackson shredded the wrapper and stuck the tip of the gum into his mouth. There it hung while he sucked the tip, all this in lieu of the cigarettes he was trying to give up. “I’m not disputing the facts, man,†Jackson continued. “All I’m saying is, don’t read doom and gloom into everything. Gemma catching the bouquet doesn’t mean nothin’. It’s just the way girls are programmed, they have no control over it. Chicks will be chicks, you know.†“Gemma’s not a chick,†Nick spat out, then fell silent, wondering why the hell he was defending the woman who’d just broken his sanity. Gus stepped in. “So she caught the bouquet. My Lynn did that about twenty times before we finally tied the knot.†“Yeah,†Billy helped out, “Jenny also caught it once. Remember? At Tanihle and Rod’s wedding.†“Shut up, Billy,†Gus boomed, too late. Everyone was suddenly thrown back to the traumatic event they’d successfully blotted from their minds, until now. Billy had proposed to his Jenny during the best man’s speech. He’d been giving it at the time. Jenny, already on a high from having just caught the bridal bouquet, wrestled the limelight from Tanihle with her shriek of acceptance and had kept it for the rest of the reception. Rod hadn’t spoken to Billy for months after that. Tanihle still wasn’t speaking to any of them. Jackson slammed a fist on the table. “That’s not the point. You—†he pointed a finger at Nick, “—are supposed to be working through this woman problem of yours.†“Woman problem?†“Yeah, man.†Jackson chomped hard at the tip of his gum stick. “What happened to you being more understanding? You have to learn to bite down hard and accept that women do unacceptable things.†“I am,†Nick defended, “but there—†“No buts. One little test and you start backpedaling. All women catch bouquets at a wedding. It’s a trick to measure the density of your backbone, man, to see if you can handle the pressure, if it’s worth their while to stick around a little longer.†“But,†Nick repeated, a little more loudly, “there’s more.†“Yeah, we know.†Unusual hardness lined Gus’s voice. “She cried. Welcome to the real world, buddy. If you broke up with every woman who shed a tear, we’d never get you down that aisle. One day in the distant future,†he added as Nick coughed up the ball of bile suddenly choking him. “You do want to get married eventually, don’t you?†“Take my word for it,†Jackson said between energetic sucking on the now wilted, half-nibbled stick, “Gemma doesn’t want to get married right now, man. She’s only exerting a primal instinct to keep in the running.†“But!†Silence followed the roar, allowing Nick to lower his voice into exaggerated patience. “There’s more.†Finally, they were listening.
Two hours earlier The wedding reception took place in Frank’s backyard. Not that one would notice. It looked nothing like the backyard Nick had barbecued in the previous weekend. A path of rose petals snaked along the side of the house, leading from the front gate all the way into a medium sized marquee tent around the back. White satin bows decorated the trees and lights had been strung from one end of the yard to the other. “This looks very nice,†Nick commented, feeling the pressure to say something suitable as they walked over the carpet of petals, hand in hand. Gemma had spent the fifteen-minute drive from the church regaling him with every last detail of what had gone into transforming the backyard into paradise. What she hadn’t personally engineered, she’d closely supervised. Clearly, something needed to be said. “You’re just saying that.†The sullen tone matched the rebuke in her eyes. She pulled her hand out of his and walked faster. Nick caught his sigh before it could surface. Before he gave her something else to cry about. He shook his head at his caustic thought. He was going about this all wrong. So, Gemma was a bit sentimental today. He could understand that. It was only one day. Tomorrow she would be back to normal. Nick ran a few steps to come up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “You’ve turned this place into a wonderland. It’s really spectacular, darling.†She twisted around to peer at him, her black lashes swooped over half-closed eyes. His heart missed a beat, but made up for it in the blood pounding his veins.
“You’re really spectacular,†he amended, and these words he really meant. He moved in beside her. Keeping one arm roped around her waist, he lowered his head to sweep a kiss across her forehead, that delicious beauty mark, her cheeks, then dipped to the curve of her throat. “Nick,†she whispered, her breathlessness encouraging him. Already his body had gone hard with an ache that kisses couldn’t fulfill. He pulled them both to a halt and swung her fully into his arms. Plowing his fingers through her hair, disregarding the stern up-style and any damage he might be wreaking, Nick’s hands steadied on the base of her skull and tilted her head up to his. Their mouths crashed into each other, desperate, urgent. He tasted her, deep and longing. A hot restlessness attacked him and, too late, Nick realized he shouldn’t have started this. He pulled back an inch, nibbling her lips. His hands had moved down to caress her back and found bare skin. Exerting the slightest pressure on the small of her back brought Gemma’s willing torso in line, flat against his and rubbing in all the right places. His other hand ruffled the soft curls loosening from their pinned flowers and his lips found hers again, nipping and sucking. Her groan of pleasure nearly shot him over the edge. For just that moment, all was as it should be. Man and woman and raw sexual hunger.
And hopefully Frank’s spare room when no one was looking. “Ahem.†Nick startled upright, then registered the heavily emphasized throat-clearing at the same time Gemma did. They smiled sheepishly, first at the elderly couple standing behind them and then at each other. “Come on,†he muttered, tugging Gemma by the hand to progress down the path. His pulse was still racing, his body stiff from unsatisfied desire. When he shot Gemma a hurried sideways glance, he saw the same unfulfilled need in her expressive eyes. Or so he’d thought. He must have been mistaken, Nick realized minutes later as they entered the marquee and Gemma drew apart from him, her body suddenly rigid. “Don’t dare try that again,†she hissed. “We’re in public and well—well—there are parents here! Parents and aunts and old uncles.†“They won’t mind.†He’d met a couple of the aunts and uncles at the church and laid on enough charm to buy his way through a few kisses. “If you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself, I don’t!†Her eyes were still muddy from that kiss. But she held her hands out in front of her, as if to ward of an attack. From him? “Now I have to go fix my hair. You’ve made a total mess of it.†With a piercing look, lips curled into a twist to put any shrew to shame, Gemma swung around and surged toward the marquee flap they’d just come in through.  “Is that what’s getting to you?†Gus leaned across, confidentially, “Women don’t like to get physical in public. Everyone knows that.†“Gemma kissed me,†Nick said quietly. “One minute she was all over me and then…nothing but cold and emptiness.†He shivered. “Cold and mean.†His voice dropped to a mix of conspiracy and awe. “Have any of you ever seen a real live shrew?†Jackson laughed him off. “Seen one? Man, have you ever tried living with one?†“The hair,†claimed Gus. “You messed up the hair. They hate it when you do that.†“Don’t forget the parents and old people,†added Billy. “Plus, you upset her.†“How the hell did I upset her?†“You didn’t tell her the place looked nice. Sounds like she put a lot of work into all those petals and stuff.†“I did tell her.†“But you didn’t mean it.†Nick stared openmouthed. Of course he hadn’t meant it. What could possibly look good about a path of rose petals and a fairyland backyard? He narrowed his gaze at the men accusing him. “What are you? Men or mice?†“Beta men,†Billy responded quickly. “Well,†Nick drawled, “seems like every man’s a better man than me right now.†“Not better. Beta,†Jackson corrected. “Sarah explained it all to us. Beta men aren’t afraid to show their feelings. We understand women and sympathize. In layman’s terms, we’re willing to see things from a woman’s point of view. Or something like that, anyway.†“Yeah,†Gus jumped in eagerly. “Lynn says that’s one of the reasons she fell in love with me. Beta men are big hits with the females. We’re like great big teddy bears.†Nick was still staring. His mouth was still open. What the hell was going on here? The men he saw, the men he’d known for years, were rough on the edges, men’s men. They looked it and they acted it. Just then Patrick banged a tray of beers on the table. Nick grabbed a mug, straight from the tray to his lips, and he didn’t relinquish it until he’d drained every last drop. Then he went for another mug. “You don’t mind, do you, guys?†he snarled at his friends. “Being beta men and all, wouldn’t want you drinking too much.†Gus shook his head. “He has so much to learn.†Ignoring him, Nick sipped his beer a little slower, giving the alcohol more time to blot out the things he really didn’t need to know about his friends. Beta men, huh. “We see things from a woman’s point of view, but that doesn’t mean we agree with it. I like to think that that’s where the understanding part kicks in.†“And it buys us points for things like poker night.â€
“About that—†started Nick before he remembered Poker Saturday Night was on again now that Gemma was off. It didn’t feel like much of a win. “It’s a balancing act, man.†Jackson spit out his gum and reached inside his pocket for a fresh stick. “Give-and-take.†“Okay,†Nick said as the alcohol rolled around his wits. “So, if I’m a beta man, I need to—†“Nah.†Billy snorted. “You’re more of an alpha—†“Gamma,†Jackson said firmly. “Definitely gamma. Since Candice, anyway. He is trying to change the way he treats and thinks of women.†Nick choked on the liquid sliding down his throat. “I’m not trying to change, I have changed. What the hell does gamma mean?†“Well, it means—†“Never mind.†Nick shot his hands out over the table, wiping the conversation from his space. Apparently there was not enough alcohol in Patrick’s to dull him totally senseless. “I don’t want to know.†After all, if beta meant meek as a mouse, gamma probably meant a white rat and he really didn’t want to know about it. He was already starting to feel like a rodent for the way he’d walked out on Gemma. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe his friends’ objective understanding was starting to rub off. Then again…They hadn’t sat around that reception table, being sucked down the black hole of Gemma’s probing and hinting at what a beautiful bride she’d make. They hadn’t developed a stutter and nervous tic when she pulled Helen over and the two of them had started planning the wedding of the decade—his wedding. “Give-and-take, man,†repeated Jackson uselessly. Gus grew serious and contemplative. “What can Gemma do unless you actually propose? You, my man, have all the power.†“But I—†Nick stopped dead. “I do?†He did have all the power. While all Gemma had were her little tricks to—what had Jackson said?—to measure the density of his backbone. She’d been trying to tell him something, and if he’d listened harder, he’d know what. This was exactly the kind of thing that had gotten him dumped last time around. This was why he felt like crap. He’d moved back a step when he could have lunged ahead. The stuff Gemma had pulled today was the ideal material for him to practice on. Nick jumped out of his seat, his hand reaching inside his jacket pocket for his cell phone. His heart already felt pounds lighter. She answered on the second ring. “Hi, darling. How’s the party?†“Nick?†She sounded hesitant, confused. “Yes, darling, it’s me. I’m sorry I got called away—turns out it wasn’t such an emergency after all.†“B-but why would you—what—Nick, why are you calling me?†What was she so flustered about? It wasn’t as if he’d cut her dead and ended the relationship. “Gemma? Is everything okay over there?†“Perfect.†Clipped and cold. “Simply perfect.†“I did tell you there was an emergency at the dockyard with one of my shipments?†he asked, suddenly unsure. He’d scrambled through a hundred excuses to find the right one and maybe he’d forgotten to actually voice it. “Yes, you told me.†Her tone told him she’d seen straight through his lie. Hot damn, now what? Grovel. “Darling, I’m so, so sorry I left like that. Of course you’re more important to me than work.†“It’s fine, Nick.†She sounded weary, defeated. “I’m an ass and I’m asking you to give me the chance to make it up to you.†Silence. What did that mean? Time to stop groveling and start charming. “You know, this is kinda nice, getting our first fight out of the way. And you know what the best thing about that is?†“If you say make-up sex…†she growled. “I was thinking make-up dinner, tomorrow, my place, and this time I’ll do it right,†he promised in his best sexy voice. “Although I’m open to your suggestions too.â€
Chapter Eleven
Courtesy of a frantic call this morning, Nick’s secretary had found a 24/7 Italian catering company to deliver dinner. A bottle of chardonnay was cooling in the ice bucket. The table was set for two with a pink orchid peeping from a slim Chinese vase placed in the center. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. She hadn’t actually said she was coming. They’d lost service before she could respond, and for the next hour he’d kept on getting her voice mail. But he’d left a hundred messages, the last of which had been, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?†and she hadn’t phoned back to say something like, “When pigs fly.†Of course she was coming. He checked his watch again, then removed the damn thing. Gemma wasn’t uptight, she didn’t hold grudges and she didn’t sulk. Yesterday had been a small hiccup, he’d made a small mistake, but today he was ready for anything that was thrown at him. Ten minutes later, he opened the door to Gemma and his confidence fled through the gap without so much as a See you later. There she stood—with a suitcase-on-wheels in each hand. His doorman, Damien, stacked a cardboard box onto a teetering pile and hurried down the hallway with a parting, “Just one more, Miss Cameron, I’ll be back up in a sec.†“Give me a hand, will you?†said Gemma, running over his foot with one suitcase as she forced her way past him. Nick slammed the door on the boxes and spun about. “Something you want to tell me?†“Oh, didn’t I say?†Gemma left one suitcase against the wall and rolled the other into the living room. “I’m moving in.†He followed. “You—you’re moving—you’re what?† Gemma kept her expression dumb as she dumped herself down on the sectional and took her time stretching first one leg, then the other, to rest on top of her suitcase.
The poor man had developed a stutter. That’s what happens when you ignore the allergy-warning labels. She’d emblazoned Nut Alert! Nut Alert! across her forehead and he’d come crawling back. Nick was up to something—had to be—but then so was she. And she was prepared to play dirty. Today was the day she got herself dumped. She offered him a witless smile. “You were so sweet after having to rush off yesterday, but there was no need to apologize. I know you wouldn’t have left if you could help it, that you’d rather be with me than anywhere else. I want that too. I want us to be together, all the time.†She fluttered her eyelids into his long silence. “Don’t you want us to be together?†“Yes.†He cleared his throat and couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “Of course I do.†“Oh, I knew you felt the same way. Now, we need never be apart. We’ll be sleeping together, eating together, living together, each and every single second of each and every day.†“We—we will?†“Isn’t it exciting?†She bounced up from the sofa. “Be a honey and bring in my boxes from the hallway. I’m going to make some closet space for myself.†She made it to his bedroom door before he shouted, “Wait!â€
Finally. She glanced over her shoulder with a look of faked surprise. “You can’t…I don’t think this is a good idea.†His long strides brought him quickly to her side. His usually rugged face was pale and his lips moved a few times before he finally got any words out. “I do want us to be together, of course I do. But—you know—this place is a bit small. Why don’t we talk it over, maybe discuss getting a bigger place in a few months and see how it goes then?†Gemma blinked hard and popped out a tear. “I have to move in today, Nick. I don’t have any choice.†Color rushed back to his face. “Why didn’t you say so? Is there a gas leak at your apartment? Rat infestation?†He pulled her into his arms with a chuckle. “Darling, you should have said this was only temporary.†She peeked up from his tight embrace in order to coo, “There’s nothing wrong with my apartment. I don’t have a choice, Nick, because I can’t live apart from you another day.†His arms dropped from around her to hang loosely at his sides. “I want us to be joined at the hip,†went on Gemma, “fused at the heart, glued by the bone.†Glued by the bone? But seriously, was he just going to stand there and stare at her? Any moment now, Gemma told herself, Nick would be dragging her and her bags back over his bachelor threshold. But instead of telling her to get a life, one that preferably didn’t involve him, he turned away without a word and walked off. Gemma heard the front door open and close. A minute passed. Two minutes. Three. He wasn’t bringing in her boxes. He wasn’t kicking her out either. Well, hardball takes two to play. She had Nick 2.0 to meet, date, fall in love with and marry. She didn’t have time to dally. She couldn’t do another Simon and, at all costs, she had to bypass that big breaky heart Madame Hooch had planned for her. With her track record, she’d be hitting forty before her heart recovered sufficiently to trust another man. She marched to the front door, was about to jerk it open when she heard the dampened hum of conversation. She put her ear to the paneled wood and held her breath.  Nick paced a short path up and down the hallway just outside his door, his cell pressed to his ear. “Jackson, have you heard a word I’ve said? She’s moved in, lock, stock and four smoking barrels.†Glued by the bone. What the hell did that even mean? “I hear you, man. Take a breath and slow down.†He heard a rustle of paper down the line, a sure sign that the situation—which required him to take a breath—had Jackson fidgeting for a cigarette. Jackson coughed and muttered inaudibly through chewing and swallowing noises. “She really moved in? Like, with her bags and
stuff?†“Have I been talking to myself for the last five minutes?†“Well, man, this must be about that bouquet she caught.†“You said that didn’t mean anything.†“Yeah, but we’re dealing with an unknown factor here. Maybe in England, catching the bouquet is like step three or something of their courtship ritual.†Nick exhaled noisily. “And moving in is step four?†“No,†said Jackson after a long chew, “I think some steps have been skipped along the way, man, no matter what country you’re in.†Finally, someone to back him up. This from the mice-man as well. “What are my options?†he demanded. “I can’t just kick her out…can I?†“That depends, man.†Jackson took the time to suck down some breaths. “How much do you like this one? Is there some kind of future there?†“Do I see a future with Gemma?†What did that have to do with anything? Do I want her to move in? No. “Once a chick decides it’s time for the next step, you’re willing or you’re out,†said Jackson. “If you kick her butt out that door, you’re never going to see it again. You okay with that?†The last time he’d been okay with anything was just before he’d opened the door to Gemma. What was happening here? Some minor transatlantic misunderstanding, or was she missing as many screws as the steps she’d skipped? Were the last two months real or the last two days? He wanted to say yes, he was more than okay with never seeing Gemma or her butt again, but his chest tightened at the thought. Hot damn! He was a damn lab rat, a white gamma lab rat, chasing phantom cheese through a maze, but he wasn’t ready to give up on Gemma yet. “No,†he muttered, then added more firmly, “definitely not.†Nick stopped his pacing and pushed a hand through his hair. “But I don’t want her moving in either.†“Living with someone isn’t all bad, you know,†Jackson mumbled between fast chewing. “Give-and-take. Profit and loss. Benefits and liabilities.†Chewing was bad. Rambling about spreadsheets was worse. Jackson was talking and thinking two different things. Nick ground his teeth. “My life was nicely balanced as it was and if I wanted advice from an accountant, I’d have phoned a real one.†“You’re just scared, man.†“I am not.†He was scared shitless. Thirty-six and he’d never lived with a woman before. Even Candice, who’d been the longest-standing candidate to date, had only been allocated one bottom drawer for the occasional sleepover. In hindsight, maybe she wouldn’t have left in such a hurry if he’d given her a second drawer, though then she’d still be around, and Gemma wouldn’t. Some mistakes worked out better than others, but this wasn’t one he wanted to repeat with Gemma. “Benefit number one,†went on Jackson, “a warm meal to come home to every night. You’ve landed yourself a gourmet chef, buddy. Benefit number two, no more laundry and cleaning-up days. You leave it long enough, she’ll stop hinting and decide it’s just easier to do it all herself.†Nick slumped against the wall. So, maybe his resistance was a little archaic. This wasn’t about the number of allocated drawers; it was about opening up to the possibility of sharing more than just apartment space. Being a hard-core bachelor had been fine, until the women had started dumping him. Jackson was on to benefit number three. “No more midnight dashes to the store. You’ll never run out of milk and bread again.†Lean fridge days. Sour milk, moldy cheese and stale bread. Giving that up wouldn’t be too hard. “That’s not even the best part,†said Jackson. “It isn’t?†Nick’s mood perked up and he tuned in. This man, his buddy, was the expert after all. Jackson had been married for five years. “We’re talking convenient sex around the clock here. When you want it, where you want, whichever which way you want it.†Nick snapped the cell shut and closed his eyes, conjuring up images of Gemma trouncing around his kitchen in skimpy underwear as she prepared a steaming meal for him, straddling his lap to serve it up the minute he walked in from the office. Gemma removing the shirt from his tired back after a long day, popping it into the washing machine before flitting into the room again to massage his shoulders. Beckoning him into the bedroom and pressing him down onto the freshly laundered red satin sheets she’d surely insist on. Â
“Do I see a future with Gemma?†“No. Definitely not.†Gemma slunk away from the door. Well, so much for that. Nothing she and Madame Hooch and apparently the whole damn universe didn’t already know. But really? He’d taken his sweet time answering, enough time to play through all their special moments in his head, and he couldn’t even come up with a maybe in there somewhere? She stared at the suitcase she’d left in the entrance, blinking back a sudden spate of tears. Angry tears. She couldn’t be mad at Nick. He hadn’t promised her anything. He’d done nothing but smile his dimpled smile, curl her toes and rekindle some of the dreams she’d left behind in London. But seriously, not even a maybe? Gemma grabbed the handle of her suitcase and rolled it determinedly into Nick’s bedroom. She had a simple mission—stay put until he dumped her and then she’d find that blasted happily-ever-after life Madame Hooch had promised. By the time Nick returned, she had half his clothes strewn across the bed and all her clothes jammed into his closet and drawers. She gave him a helpless shrug and waved a hand over the chaotic bed. “I tried to pack as economically as possible, but those will have to go.†His smoky gaze raked her body from head to toe and a grin charmed that dimple into his chin. “I haven’t worn some of those suits in years—a good spring cleaning was overdue anyway.†Of course it was. Gemma sighed. Nick saw no future for them, but he wasn’t done with her yet. He’d just kick her out when he got bored, so her moving in had no long-term repercussions. Seemed the practice of getting herself dumped was twice as hard as the theory. “Hungry?†asked Nick, still grinning. “I’ve got dinner all laid out and an excellent bottle on ice to celebrate with.†There he stood, looking twice as yummy as triple chocolate fudge cake with his devil’s charm and Sunday-afternoon shadow. Looking
exactly like the kind of man who promised nothing and thought he could—knew he could—ask for everything in return and get it. She was melting in his gaze even before he came forward and scooped her into his arms for a raw, urgent kiss.  “Morning.†The husky whisper at her ear brought an irresistible smile of contentment to Gemma’s lips. “Morning.†She turned to Nick and was immediately rewarded with a traveling kiss. He started on her lips, then moved to her throat, along her collarbone and down to one nipple. His tongue licked and teased thoroughly before moving on to pay respect to its twin. Gemma moaned with the hot, sensual pleasure coiling through her limbs as the stubble on his jaw tickled her sensitive skin. He rubbed the length of his body against hers. “Pity I have an early meeting.†“Pity,†she agreed, reluctantly pushing him away. “You’d better go now before I change my mind and handcuff you to the bedposts.†His eyes warmed with laughter. “If you’d told me you had handcuffs in one of those boxes, I’d have finished your unpacking last night.†He rolled away from her and off the bed, showing off steel buns as he padded toward the en suite bathroom. Gemma pulled the cover up to her nose and enjoyed the view. Darn! She jerked up, fully awake now. The Gepperson meeting was in half an hour and she was lounging in bed with thoughts of attacking her lover for a rematch the moment he stepped out of the shower. Gemma swung her legs off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her body as she stood. A quick glance in the mirror killed any hope of skipping her morning shampoo to save time. Oh, for goodness’ sake, this was ridiculous. She was forced to stand around aimlessly and wait her turn for the bathroom while Gepperson would soon be tapping his Italian shoes outside her office. To make matters worse, Nick started whistling to the tune of “I Did It My Way.†Gemma bit her lip, drawing blood, and prayed that Nick’s way was a lot speedier than the tempo of the song. “Aargh,†she groaned, pacing the floor and thinking of her nice, clean, white-tiled and ever-vacant bathroom waiting for her at home. Nick would leave a horrid mess; men always did. There’d be water everywhere and soap scuds sliding down the shower stall walls, grubby towels and plucked nose hairs clogging up the drains. Come to think of it, what the hell was she doing, foggy-headed and dewy-eyed from a night of marathon lovemaking? That hadn’t been the plan last time she’d checked in. The whistling stopped, followed abruptly by the shower being turned off. “All yours, darling.†Damp curls clinging to his neck, a towel riding low on his narrow hips and only just held in place with one hand, Nick crossed to his closet—their closet. Suddenly unable to remember why she’d been in such a hurry, Gemma couldn’t draw her eyes away from his body. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to draw up a new plan. Look how the burnt pies had turned out. Flexibility was the main ingredient of success. She should relax a little and play at happy homes for a day or two. Scout the territory and do a little of that getting to know thy enemy stuff before hitting him in all his weak spots. Only for a day or two, decided Gemma. Then she’d get straight back to the task of chasing herself out of Nick’s life with a new and improved game plan.  “I’m late.†Gemma rushed in, waving away frowning glances from Paul and Tessa as she made a beeline for the loft. “I’m late. What happened?†Paul tagged her heels, Tessa right behind. “You know the meeting—†She spun around. “Is he here yet?†Paul smiled. “No.†Gemma crossed her eyes at the grinning couple. “Very funny.†“Well, you had Paul worried,†Tessa defended. “Me?†Paul tapped her lightly on both shoulders. “I had to stop you from phoning all the hospitals in the area.†“That was for you.†Tessa smirked. “You were on your way to a cardiac arrest.†“Listen sweetie pie, if I was having a heart attack, it was because you—†“Cut it out.†Gemma sliced a hand through the sparring pair. “Gepperson will be here any minute.†She took a deep breath, swinging her gaze around the place. “Is everything clean and in place? I want him to know we run a tight ship.†“Army’s spruced and at your command,†said Paul, nodding in the direction of the work area where the new assistants stood to attention. “Got them well trained.†“I hope you two aren’t abusing your power,†Gemma said sternly. “Yeah, Tessa.†Paul glared at Tessa, but he was talking to Gemma. “She made poor Larry carry boxes back and forth, just so she could check out his muscles.†Tessa colored. “I couldn’t decide where the boxes of wine should go.†“Yeah, sure.†“Besides, I wasn’t the one checking out his muscles. You couldn’t keep your eyes—†“Stop it.†Gemma’s eyes darted between Paul and Tessa, wondering what the hell was going on. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the air was charged with jealousy and sexual tension. But Paul was—well, he didn’t exactly walk, talk, eat or breathe like a hot-blooded man of heterosexual variety. Paul had gone red in the face. His palms were folded inward on his hips and one boot tapped a rapid beat on the polished floor. Tessa had fallen into sulk mode, head down and arms folded. “I haven’t time for this now,†Gemma said finally. “Stop squabbling and make sure everything’s in place. Paul, bring Mr. Gepperson up as soon as he arrives.†Paul and Tessa? Not likely. Gemma raced up the stairs to prepare the office for Gepperson’s inspection before they finalized the contracts. When she reached the top, all thought of Tessa and Paul and Paul’s persuasions fled.
Her office was a mess and it was Anne’s day off. She rushed around, scooping and shoving papers into drawers at random, only half-done when Gepperson’s familiar bark echoed through the warehouse. Her heart raced with apprehension. She needed black coffee to steady her nerves and a clean office to secure the deal. Why had she chosen today of all days to be late for work? From now on she’d make sure she was first in line for the bathroom. And she’d make doubly sure she was out the house before Nick could tempt her back into bed with his skimpy towel routine. The approaching voices forced her to quit tidying up and use the last few seconds to regain her lost composure. “Good morning, Mr. Gepperson,†she greeted, reaching out to shake his hand as he topped the last step and bent for the low beam in the loft entrance. “Armando,†he corrected. “Please call me Armando. And it certainly is a good morning.†He cast his eyes around the cramped office, the expression on his face unreadable. “Please, take a seat. I’m sorry about the mess—†“Don’t apologize,†he growled, brandishing a hand in the air as he crossed to the chair and sat down, briefcase on his lap. “Can’t stand tidy offices myself. A place needs to feel worked-in.†Gemma moved around to her side of the desk. “Would you like some coffee?†As soon as he inclined his head, she turned to Paul, who was lingering on the top step. “Make that two coffees, please.†“Yes, ma’am.†He hurried down, leaving Gemma with a small smile. Ma’am, indeed. “Now, you need to read this carefully,†Gepperson said, his tone more fatherly than businesslike as he pushed a thick bundle of contracts across to her. “There are a few unusual clauses, but that’s the nature of our target market and my board.†While listening, Gemma scanned the fine print. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her. “Clauses?†“Clauses pertaining to our public image.†He chuckled. “Or rather, yours.†She arched one brow at him. Gepperson dropped his briefcase to the floor and folded his arms, leaning back into his chair with an admiring gaze. “No problem with you, my dear. I couldn’t ask for a better front lady. Once our trial partnership becomes legal and public, Perfect Parties will be synonymous with Gepperson and we have a very specific image to maintain. My board of directors and stockholders need assurance that your staff will conduct themselves appropriately at all times, in and out of the workplace.†Gepperson raised his hand to stop the question on Gemma’s lips. “An unusual request, I appreciate, and unfortunately nonnegotiable.†“There’ll be no problems.†She crossed her fingers and deepened the smile. “My staff are very carefully chosen.†“Pleased to hear that, my dear. Our image is one of good, old-fashioned values. I must say, I had one hell of a time convincing my board that an injection of fresh, young blood is vital to our continued success. Don’t prove me wrong.†They chatted for a few more minutes, then, with a promise to get the contracts reviewed later in the day and to return signed copies to him by the following morning, Gemma walked him out. Before her day was done, she’d served a finger lunch at a tennis party, delivered three hundred cupcakes to a book-signing event and spent two long hours downtown with her lawyers. To end it off, she’d gotten halfway home before remembering she didn’t live there at the moment. By the time she slammed through the front door of Nick’s apartment and kicked off her shoes, Gemma was beat. A glass of wine in hand, she sank into a nearby chair, feet curled beneath her legs, and settling in to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening. The sound of a key turning almost stopped her heart. She jumped into action, sloshing half the wine out of her glass as she dumped it on the side table. A quick detour to scoop her shoes from where she’d tossed them, and she was sprinting through the bedroom and into the bathroom, closing as many doors as possible between her and Nick. Panting heavily, she skidded to a halt in front of the bathroom mirror. Her eyeliner was smudged and not a drop of lipstick remained after all the lip chewing that had gone on today. Her hair was limp and greasy from the heat of three industrial ovens. She repaired the surface damage and then performed some class-act acrobatics as she stripped her creased pants on the way to the closet. The skin-tight jeans said she’d made an effort and the strappy heels were just plain sexy. Her eyes lingered hungrily on her favorite threadbare sweatpants. With one last swing by the mirror, she sashayed into the living room. To find Nick sprawled in her chair and sipping from her glass of wine. “Good day at the office?†she clipped out, resenting the tie hanging loose over his partially unbuttoned and completely wrinkled cotton shirt. This was the part of living together she’d forgotten about, the part where the woman made all the effort and the man didn’t bother. To be fair to Nick, she wouldn’t care that he looked good with no effort had she not had a trying day. But that was part of the problem. That, and the fact that they wouldn’t be living together at all if he’d played to the universal rule of male commitment phobia and dumped her on cue. He looked up, his gaze warming in appreciation as it flickered over her. “Busy as hell. We’re working on snaring a big client. Had to take him out for lunch at Trasimeno, then he insisted on going downtown for a couple of games.†“Games?†Gemma asked, eyeing the rim of her wineglass resting on his lips. “Pool.†Nick chuckled. “The man is good, took a couple of dollars of me.†“Lunch and pool,†said Gemma, thinking of the day she’d had, rushing from one end of town to the other twice over. “You must be tired.†“Exhausted.†Nick stretched his legs out a little farther and rolled his shoulders. “I think I’ve done something to my neck. You wouldn’t mind massaging it a little, would you?†Resisting the urge to snatch her glass from his hands and kick his butt out of her chair, Gemma went to stand behind him and placed a hand on each shoulder. “Poor dear, it’s probably a tension knot. You need to take it easy.†“I know,†agreed Nick. “There never seems to be enough time in the—Ouch!†He lurched forward. She rolled her eyes on a smile. “We have to work at those knots, darling.†Pulling him back gently by the shoulders, she said, “Relax into my hands.†His shoulder muscles were as smooth and fluid as runny batter, but she was sure she could knead one or two knots in there somewhere. Visualizing a bowl of uncooperative dough, Gemma kneaded and pinched and screwed her knuckles deep into muscle. Nick jerked beneath her hands and leaped out of the chair. “Thanks, that’s great. All better now.†“Are you sure?†she asked sweetly. “I was just getting started on a coil of stressed—†She cut off on a chuckle as Nick bolted
into the kitchen. He popped his head around the archway a moment later. “You didn’t stop at the store on your way home?†“Do we need anything? I nibbled all day at work and,†she reminded him, “you did go out for lunch.†“Right.†“Did you want to eat something? I guess I can—†“Um, no, no, that’s okay.†His head dipped back inside the kitchen. Gemma stared at the empty archway for a full two minutes. She was not his keeper. Nick had survived thirty-odd years without her to shop for his groceries and cook his supper. Was he really hungry? Her fingers twitched. Nick’s fridge was a disaster zone. Rustling up the most basic meal from it would take a pinch of inspiration and whole lot of imagination. The challenge was too intriguing to ignore. She found Nick pulling a bottle of beer from the fridge. He kicked the door shut and used the edge of the granite countertop to snap off the cap. “That’s supper?†She bumped him out of the way with a sway of her hips and started gathering what she could from the fridge. The offerings were meager. A limp lettuce. An overripe tomato. One egg. “What are you doing?†asked Nick from behind her. “Doing my best to feed you.†She came up with a carton of milk in hand. “But it’s not looking promising.†“You don’t have to cook for me.†He was taking a slow sip from the bottle, hooded eyes raking her with a healthy appetite. “I don’t want to be up all night listening to your stomach growl. So, it’s omelet or scrambled egg. What are you in the mood for?†He lowered the bottle to reveal the kind of dimpled grin that melted grumpy moods. “You.†She raised a stern brow at him, as stern as one could under the circumstances. “I thought you were hungry.†“I’m ravenous.†He reclaimed the few steps he’d been bumped and fit a hand on either side of her waist. “Feed me.†His hands came up, fingers twining into the short strands at her nape while his mouth descended over hers. His body hard, he lifted her by the waist, spun them both around and deposited her on the kitchen table. “Nick, wait!†she yelped when he pressed her shoulders all the way back until she was lying flat. “Not here.†“If I recall correctly, here works extremely well.†He stretched over her, leaning his elbows either side of her. “You’re a chef. We’re in a kitchen.†He nudged her thighs wide open and settled himself in between them. “The equipment’s charged and ready.†“That’s gross.†He pulled away in mock alarm. “What? You don’t like my dirty kitchen talk?†“No, no, I don’t.†She grabbed the dangling ends of his loose tie to keep him from going anywhere. “But there’s the oath and pledges cannot be ignored.†“The oath?†“Yes, the oath,†groaned Gemma as he moved his hips, grinding heat to all the right places. “The Cordon Bleu oath.†“Hmmm.†His hands slid beneath her shirt and found their way to her breasts. His gaze darkened to a bruised stormy blue. “How does that go again?†She tugged sharply on the ends of his tie and he came down over her again. “It’s better if I show you.â€
Chapter Twelve
“Hello, honey, how’s it going?†“Helen! When did you get back?†“This very minute.†Helen laughed down the line. “I’ve just walked through the door, threw my bags on the floor and called you.†“So…†Gemma let out a long, dreamy sigh. “How was the honeymoon?†“Great. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. More important, what’s happening with you?†“Well…†Gemma tucked her cell into the crook of her neck so she could finish folding Nick’s T-shirts. “I sort of moved in with Nick.†“Oh, honey, we talked about this,†sighed Helen. “I know, but I don’t have your kind of patience. I had to do something to hurry Nick along.†She packed the T-shirts in Nick’s top drawer, then returned to the bed and the huge pile of socks waiting to be paired and rolled. “What’s the point of Madame Hooch if I’m just going to sit back and watch?†“The point is to know where the swells and dips are, so you know when to coast and when to hang on for dear life. The point is not to launch an aggressive, full-frontal attack.†“How’s this any different from you deciding not to drive until Madame Hooch’s black cloud blew over?†“The difference,†Helen said softly, “is that I didn’t spend the last five years too scared to drive at all.†Gemma rolled and tucked furiously. “Ah, so you think this is too much, too soon and I’m going to burn.†“I think it’s too soon for you to move in with the wrong guy.†“But I know Nick’s the wrong guy. I’m only doing this to get him out of my life quicker.†“And how’s that working out?†“Not as well as I’d planned,†Gemma admitted, scooping up two handfuls of socks to carry to the drawer. “All I seem to do is cook, clean, wash and shop, it’s a miracle I actually have any energy left over for Perfect Parties and sex. For just one day I’d love to come home and let my hair hang down, slip into my sweatpants and not worry about smudged makeup.†She used the thirty seconds of silence that followed to attempt to hook the drawer open with her elbow. “What are you doing right now?†asked Helen. “Trying to open a damn drawer, actually. How many pairs of socks can one man possibly wear per day?†“Stop!†Gemma jumped, hit her funny bone on the edge of the chest of drawers and ten pairs of socks went flying. She dropped on all fours to collect everything up again. “Honey, if you’re going to do this, at least do it right. You’re supposed to be making his life a living hell, not heaven on earth.†“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to so since the—†Gemma caught herself. She was on bent knees in front of Nick’s chest of drawers. With a spasm tingling up her elbow and her fingers scratching into God knows what to find a darn pair of socks that had rolled under the chest. “What am I doing?†“Everything you never did for Simon.†“What? What’s that supposed to mean?†Gemma stared at her two fistfuls of socks. What was she doing? A day or two playing the happy couple had turned into a week. Cooking every night wasn’t a chore. Food was her passion and Nick made a delightful guinea pig. But the rest of it? “You don’t want to be rejected again,†said Helen. “Some part of you still believes that Simon left because you did something wrong, you weren’t enough, you weren’t needed enough. That same part wants to make damn sure Nick never has any reason to leave.†Gemma dropped the socks to rub at the pain shooting through her temples. She’d done the bare minimum for both their flat and herself when she’d lived with Simon. There hadn’t been time to worry about dusting and slapping on lipstick except for special occasions. She’d been working her way up through the kitchens, and the entertainment industry never slept. Was it possible? Was Helen right? “But even subconsciously, why would I try to hold on to Nick?†She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense, Helen, I know that’s not going to happen and I’m okay with it.†“You’re not trying to hold on to Nick, honey, you just don’t want to be rejected. By anyone. That’s perfectly normal, but it’s not helping your cause.†“Oh, crap.†“My sentiments exactly,†drawled Helen. “Where is Nick now?†“Down at some bar with his buddies.†“While you’re keeping house? Is that man from the Dark Ages?†“To be fair,†said Gemma, “he did mention something about a local laundry service that I might have ignored.†“The two of you almost deserve each other.†Helen blew a heavy breath down the line. “Now listen to me, honey, listen very carefully. You got yourself into this mess, but I know exactly how we’re going to get you out.† Life is sweet, thought Nick as he trampled up the stairs to his apartment. He’d left the guys at Patrick’s after only beer, eager to get home to Gemma. This living together thing wasn’t half as bad as he’d always feared. Gemma brought laughter and sunshine, not to mention order, to his home. To think he’d almost kicked her out. Out of his apartment and out of his life. “Gemma, darling,†Nick called out as he flung the front door closed behind him. “I’m home.†Silence. “Gemma?†The disappointment of an empty apartment caught him by surprise. He checked his watch to find it was only just after eight. She wouldn’t be in bed yet. Must be working late.
He extracted his cell from his inside pocket, tossed his jacket over the sofa and called Gemma’s number on the way to the fridge. While waiting for the call to go through, he searched for the cold cuts and hummus he’d snacked on before leaving for Patrick’s. He found cartons, cartons, cartons and nothing else. Why would anyone in their right mind toss out perfectly good hummus to make place for yogurt? His fingers opened and closed compartments with increasing speed and panic. Every last inch of his fridge was taken up with yogurt. Natural yogurt. Bio yogurt. Drinking yogurt. Dessert yogurt. Obviously there was some sort of yogurt promotion on at Perfect Parties and she’d needed temporary cold storage facilities, but what the hell had she done with his six-pack? “Why are you calling?†shrilled Gemma’s voice in his ear. Nick pushed away from the fridge and sucked in a deep breath. If they were to live together, and he’d grown fond of this living-together thing, then it was understandable that adjustments would need to be made from time to time. No problem. “Hi, darling, I was just wondering when you’d be home?†“I am home,†she barked. “I’ve been home all night. You’re the one who flits around until all hours of the morning and you’d better be calling to say you’re on your way home.†Nick was in his bedroom before her rant finished. He frowned into every corner of the empty bedroom. “Where are you?†The line went dead and the bathroom door flung open. She stood dead center in the doorway with her hands possibly on her hips. He couldn’t tell. The tent she wore floated from her shoulders to her feet in two straight lines, obliterating any shape or form. Peeping out from beneath the frills and ribbons of the tent were pink and yellow slippers. The kind his grandmother wore. One slipper tapping furiously. Then his gaze lifted and an icy breeze whispered up his arms. Her face was packed with thickly smeared, grungy, white paste. The jagged holes around her eyes, nose and mouth put her in the running for the devil’s evil twin sister. “Is this the time to come home?†she shrieked, her eyes narrowed into him, her lips pursed so thinly, her face started to crack apart. As she bore down on him, reeking of sourdough and brimstone, Nick clenched his gut to keep his lunch inside. “I cook, I clean—†bits of paste broke off around her mouth and dropped to the floor, “—and what appreciation do I get around here?†She reached him and shoved her face up to his nose. “None!†Nick jumped back. She flung her hands up high, almost taking out the front curler dangling loosely from her fringe. “No more going down to that bar of yours. I want you home straight after work every day. Do you hear me?†Nick was pretty sure the whole damn world had heard her and he would have said so, but was afraid of what would enter his mouth if he opened it. Did she not know how bad she smelled? Did she realize that at least three more people could fit into that housedress and there’d still be room for more? And was that…? He squinted at the cracks on her face. Yes, the edges of the cracked paste were turning yellow and something green seemed to be oozing beneath. “Don’t just stand there like a buffoon!†That loose curler dangled precariously low over one eye. “What do you have to say for yourself?†Not one word, that’s what. Nick swung around and sprinted from the room, not slowing down until the pavement hit his feet on the way back to Patrick’s. Shouting…there’d been shrieking and shouting, background noise that only now registered. Registered but made no sense. The pungent smell clung to his clothes and the rows of green Velcro curlers pricked behind his eyeballs.  “You’re my buddy and so I can say this.†Nick half-listened while he plastered the beer mug to his lips, already anticipating Gus’s next words.
Time to dump this one. Get out, quick and clean and don’t turn back for one last look. Gemma had crossed the boundary of any man’s endurance. He gulped down half his beer, lining his stomach with good old-fashioned courage. “You, my friend, are a shallow bastard,†declared Gus. Nick spluttered out a mouthful of beer. Billy nodded with a grunt. “You want Gemma to look good, right?†said Jackson. Nick rewarded him with serious grin. Finally, someone understood the apparition he’d tried to describe. “Yes, hot damn yes, I want Gemma to look and smell good.†“Sexy?†added Gus. “Silky hair and waxed in all the right places?†“Something like that,†said Nick hesitantly, suddenly not sure who was agreeing with whom and what they were agreeing to. He looked into the smug faces grinning at him and quickly laughed off the unease. These were his buddies and buddies stood together. “There are laws. Laws of nature that should never be breached. Things men should never have to see.†Gus shook his head. “We agreed that you expect Gemma to keep herself—†“—in prime condition,†finished Billy. “We’re not talking about a vintage motor,†snorted Jackson. He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. Nick drained his beer and looked around for Patrick. “Pay attention.†Jackson landed a slap on his cheek. “Gemma lives with you. When and where is she supposed to do all these things that keep her beautiful?†Nick leaned in to glare at Jackson. “Are you telling me that—that Sarah and Lynn and…they all go around the house looking like Yetis?†Billy clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, man.†“I don’t even notice anymore,†said Jackson. “I just keep playing images of my mother-in-law in my head,†said Gus. “Everything else looks good in comparison.†Nick nodded, some of the shock starting to wear off. Then he remembered the rest. “What about the screeching? The demands? And the tapping. There was foot tapping.†“Yeah,†said Jackson with a sympathetic frown. “You don’t want to get them mad.â€
“Jenny’s still not speaking to me after last night. Except to give me my curfew, which is—†Billy glanced at his wristwatch, “—overdue.†He jumped up from the table. “I’m outta here.†Nick glared at the remaining two. “Haven’t you also got curfews? Somewhere you have to scuttle off to?†“Nah,†Gus drawled, “Lynn goes easy on me. Once you get through the first few years, they’re more interested in book clubs and Netflix than us.†“For every day you put in with the kids,†added Jackson, “you get a day off.†“Billy’s still got a year or two to go.†Jackson leaned in. “You need to look at the picture from start to finish, man. All women lead you down the same path. You dump this one, all it means is you have start at the beginning with the next one.†“Ride it out,†said Gus. “Get past the first set of hurdles and on to the straight.†“Past the first hurdle.†Nick slid down in his seat. “I can do that. I think.† Nick tried to slip in quietly so as not to wake Gemma. If there was any luck reserved for him tonight, she’d be asleep and he could sort everything out in the morning. As he clicked the front door closed, he held his breath. On his first step, light flooded the living room. “Where the hell have you been?†“Patrick’s,†he mumbled. Her stare was hard as ice and twice as cold. “I’m very disappointed, Nick.†She threw her hands up, as if the look and words hadn’t been enough, and retreated into the bedroom. Nick fled to the kitchen. Gus and Jackson made everything sound easy. Their advice, in the event of Gemma still being awake when he got home, had been to act contrite. Not say one word in self-defense. Seeing his morose demeanor, she would forgive him and all would be fine. That was the plan. But he didn’t feel contrite. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Except run away. He’d come back, hadn’t he? And he’d come back an enlightened man. He opened the fridge and immediately slammed it closed again when he saw the cartons of yogurt and remembered the missing beers. He understood the bit about enduring Gemma’s beauty routine, but did he have to do it sober? The pounding against his temples was proof that a head didn’t explode no matter how great the pressure, but the pain marched him toward the bedroom. The time had come to assert his rights, stake back his claim. Even if it was only a six-by-six area of refrigeration space. When he reached the room, Gemma was lying as close to her side of the bed as possible without falling out. As if the slightest contact with his body during the night would contaminate her. The light shining in from the living room cast shadows on her face. He had no idea how long he stood in the doorway. Long enough to defuse the ticking bomb inside him. So, she wasn’t perfect. She’d had a bad day and snapped. He hadn’t helped, staring at her like a dumb ass and choking on disgust. She’d seen the horror in his eyes, known he hadn’t been able to look past the grunge. He’d hurt Gemma and pain made people strike out. The anger drained from Nick’s body, his gaze softening on the woman occupying the bed. Eyelids draped over her distress, she resembled a hurt butterfly. Except—was that a smile on her lips? He had to be mistaken. Must be a weeping grimace. “Gemma, darling.†Nick moved to sit on the edge of the bed and traced a finger down the slender curve of her neck. “I’m so sorry.†Her eyes shot open, revealing nothing close to the tears he’d imagined. There was amazement. Her lips were rounded in a perfect O. There was shock. Her eyes were huge, her irises dilated into pools of black. He’d driven her beyond tears. “I shouldn’t have left like that.†He wanted to explain why he’d taken off, but how could he do that without hurting her even more? You made me want to puke and so I fled, didn’t sound like the way to make amends. “What’s the matter with you?†she hissed, scrambling upright. Who could blame her? “I’ll try to be more considerate from here on out,†said Nick. Especially now that he knew the rules. He was no longer drifting aimlessly—he belonged in the category of Informed and Up-to-Date. “How can you sit there and take all this cra—†A high-pitched sob strangled her outburst. Nick slipped his arms around her neck and pulled her close for a tender kiss on the forehead. “I’m sorry, darling. Don’t cry.†“I—I’m not crying.†He kissed away the tear forming in the corner of her eye and, as he did so, something inside him cracked wide open. For the first time in his life, he didn’t mind the tears, didn’t feel awkward with the emotion that brought them on. The only thing he couldn’t stand was that he’d caused them.  Gemma squeezed her eyes tight and willed the tears of pure frustration to subside. What did she have to do to get dumped around here? Write a note and brand it to his forehead? She opened her eyes, saw the look of pure affection and desire in Nick’s face, and closed them just as quickly. His kisses were heading lower, down her throat. She stiffened as her blood threatened to catch fire. Had he no backbone at all? He was like an amoeba, absorbing whatever she threw his way without a flicker of resistance. Warm hands slid up the inside of her camisole to cup her breasts, and a rush of desire throbbed through her entire body. His mouth closed over hers and he drew her tongue deep inside with slow, sensual strokes. She forgot to resist for a moment and found herself flat on her back with him stretched over her, his sinewy muscles fitting neatly into her soft curves. Her body had succumbed and her mind wasn’t far behind. Because Nick was the amoeba man, right? It wasn’t like she’d fall in love with a man who had no bone in his spine. No danger of any hearts breaking here. Another day or two of great sex wouldn’t make much of
a dent in her strategy. She rolled Nick over and straddled him. His hands slid around her waist, then further to cup her bottom while she plucked open the buttons of his shirt, one by one. His jaw strained with lust and the look in his eye became almost feral. She went slower, scraping her fingers through his short chest hairs, playing with the last few buttons as she stretched low over him and nibbled kisses up his throat. “Oh, God, yes,†she moaned as his hands on her bottom became firmer, rocking her core along his hard length. With a loud growl, Nick rolled them both over again and with a little help from her, had his pants around his knees and her shorts somewhere down her thighs in no time. He took her hard and fast and she matched him stroke for stroke until they climaxed together. When the shuddering subsided, his arms firmly strapped around her back, Gemma opened her eyes to find him looking directly into her soul. The gray in his eyes turned to molten mercury as his gaze deepened, seeking out and stripping bare any secrets she might have considered harboring. In that moment, she had no secrets to hide. Here, wrapped in each other’s arms, they were as one. She felt safe, content, utterly sated and complete.
Chapter Thirteen
“You are still doing it,†Helen exclaimed, pointing a finger of accusation across the desk. “Sex?†Gemma rolled her eyes innocently, but as she felt the telltale blush sting her cheeks, she came clean. “Why, yes, I suppose I am.†They were sitting in Gemma’s loft office and Helen had just spent the last hour reliving her honeymoon. All that talk of snorkeling amongst coral reefs in the moonlight, skinny-dipping in a sea of baby-blue tranquility, one would have thought it would take more than Gemma’s sex life to undo ten thousand dollars worth of pure bliss. Apparently not. Helen’s fists thumped down hard on the desk. “Do you ever listen to any of my advice?†Gemma’s morning-after glow went flying with the invoices and spreadsheets. “It’s not what you think.†“It doesn’t matter what I’m thinking. What matters is what Nick is getting.†Helen jumped up to pace the cramped office. “You know the ending. Do you really have to read the entire story from start to end?†“The juicy middle’s worth it,†shot back Gemma, only half-joking. Helen stopped her pacing in front of Gemma. “Do you want this to be over?†The green spark in her eyes put Gemma on high alert. She ravaged her lower lip instead of answering. “You need to change your flavor of juice,†declared Helen anyway. “If by that you mean another ma—†“A brilliant idea,†Helen cut her off with a sweet smile. “Now why didn’t I think of that?†Gemma scowled at her. “I really hope we’re not thinking the same thing because if you honestly believe I’d get it on with another man just to—†“If it keeps Nick out of your bed then you—†“Nick isn’t in my bed!†Gemma stood to face her off. “I’m not in my bed. We’re both in his bloody bed and I don’t remember giving you permission to dictate my life!†“I’m the only one who seems to give a damn about you finding your happily-ever-after.†They stared daggers at each other for a heartbeat before the storm collapsed as quickly as it had erupted. “I’m sorry,†they said together. Helen sank back into her chair. “It’s Nick I’m angry with. Every time I see that glow in your eyes—†“I don’t have a glow.†“You have a glow and I hate that he’s the one to put it there.†“No glow, and I am doing everything—almost everything to freak him out. Just when I think I’ve succeeded, he comes back supercharged.†Gemma perched on the desk, facing Helen. “I’ve never met a man more determined to stick around. If he wasn’t going to dump me, I swear he’d be perfect.†A smile started in her belly and warmed her through and through. “He has this dimple—†she touched a finger to her chin for Helen to see, “—when he smiles or laughs. His eyes are so expressive, they change color with his moods. I don’t know what it is about him…Sometimes I just have to look at him…†her finger left her chin and moved to a point just below her rib cage, “…and a longing, a want that’s not entirely physical, grabs me right here.†“You’re glowing…†Gemma blinked back a tear she had no right to. “I know Nick’s not the one.†She blinked back another tear. “I’m just saying.†“He’s not the one,†said Helen softly, coming to put an arm around her. “He’s my amoeba. Oh, God, he’s my amoeba. I thought that was good, but it isn’t.†Helen rubbed her back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, honey.†“I thought you ladies would like some coffee,†came Paul’s voice. Gemma pulled out of Helen’s arms and cleared her throat before smiling at Paul. “Coffee! Wonderful.†He stood there, leaning heavily on one leg with the other pulled in at a slack angle, giving the impression that his hands would be on his hips if not for the two mugs. “Is everything okay?†“Just dandy,†she said brightly, taking the mugs from him. Was that a pout on his lips? “I’ll be down in a moment to help with the blueberry kebabs.†Their blueberry surprise for the Gepperson function tonight was mini-kebabs, each stick pierced with seven blueberries soaked in different flavored liquors. “All done,†said Paul. His gaze shot to Helen, then back to her, clearly unhappy with being left out of the girl loop. “The last of the muffins are out. We’re starting to do the trays.†He sauntered out the office in a huff. A brand-new worry hit Gemma as she watched him leave. Paul’s sexual preferences were none of Gepperson’s business, but her staff’s dress code was written into the contract. “That bright pink satin shirt has to go,†she said to Helen. “Really? I think it goes quite well with the electric blue feather scarf.†“This is no joke.†Gemma walked back to her side of the desk and sat, cradling the mug between her hands. “His dress style violates points one through one hundred of Gepperson’s morality clause.†“Morality clause?†Helen took her seat again as well. “More like a good old-fashioned dress-sensibility clause. Gepperson doesn’t mind as much, but I gather his board would have tried for a whole lot more if they’d thought they could get away with it.†Helen giggled. “So what points does our Paul here not violate?†“Thigh-skimming skirts, facial piercing and visible tattoos,†said Gemma grumpily. “I’m going to have to have the fashion talk with him.†“I’ll do it,†offered Helen. “No! Um, thanks, but I should be the one to do it.†“Talking about doing it, what are you going to do about Nick?â€
The bedroom was the only place left where she allowed herself any real, unshielded contact with Nick. Emotional and physical. Letting go of that was…letting go of Nick. “Gemma…?†“No more sex,†promised Gemma. When one started glowing and babbling about amoebas, clearly it was time to get serious about getting dumped. After seeing Helen out, Gemma went in search of Paul to get things straight while Tessa was out at the store and the new assistants hadn’t yet arrived. She found him bent over a tray of muffins. “Paul, I need to talk to you.†He pulled in his perky bottom as he unbent and turned a serious expression on her. “I’m always here for you, boss. I’m a good listener, so whenever you’re ready to talk about those tears, I’m here and waiting.†“Thanks, Paul, I appreciate that and for the record, I wasn’t crying.†She gave him a smile and barged right in. Sort of. “So, you like bright colors, shocking pinks and electric blues. Do you own anything black? Maybe a nice pale gray or dull olive?†Paul’s hand went to the feather scarf draped around his throat. “You looking to borrow an outfit?†“No…†She took a deep breath. “But you know how conservative Gepperson’s board is and I had to sign a clause a mile long on acceptable attire.†He looked at her with an expectant and? expression. “Do you think you could tone down the satin pinks and feathers?†“Oh,†laughed Paul, “why didn’t you just say so?†“Because she’s afraid you’ll take it as harassment,†declared Tessa, striding into the kitchen and tossing her bag onto the counter. She crossed her arms and raised a brow at Gemma, but she was smiling. “Which is totally unfair, by the way. You wouldn’t think twice about telling me what to do or wear.†Gemma squinted at her suspiciously. “You haven’t gone and gotten a tattoo, have you?†“See? Paul shouldn’t get preferential treatment just because he’s gay.†“I’m not gay.†Paul’s cheeks flushed a deep strawberry. “Why would you think—?†“Oh, please!†Tessa pushed the tray of muffins aside and jumped up to sit on the counter right in front of him. “We’ve been friends for three years. I think I’d know.†“I think I’d know that I’ve liked you for those three years.†She kicked out softly at his shin. “I should hope so.†“You don’t understand.†He took one step closer her, his color deepening to beetroot. “I like you, as in I like you.†Gemma snapped her slack jaw tight and quietly backed away. “You never said anything.†“You never showed any interest.†“Because I thought you were—†Gemma peeped over her shoulder. Yep, they were kissing. At the bottom of the steps, she turned and crept her way up to the top. Paul? Tessa and Paul? Helen and Frank. Tessa and Paul. Gemma and Nick. A buzz kicked in at her pulse. She was halfway to a dreamy smile before she snapped back to reality. Gemma and…Nick 2.0? Apparently the universe bent over backward to give everyone their someone special and she was still stuck waiting for an upgrade. It wasn’t just time to get serious, it was time to get desperate.  Nick strode into the apartment, looking about cautiously as he shrugged his jacket off. “Gemma?†“In the kitchen…†Her voice sounded normal, and as he turned toward the kitchen, he caught the shadow of her movement. He couldn’t be certain, but the shadow floating on the wall boded well. Definitely not a triangular blob, and the hair seemed curler-free. He inhaled deeply…no hint of the pungent aroma he’d been subjected to last night. It was safe to enter. Gemma was leaning against the counter, spooning yogurt straight from the tub into her mouth. “Hi there,†she murmured, the spoon resting loosely on her bottom lip. Her skin had a freshly showered glow, natural color defining her cheekbones. Soft ash-blond curls licked her face from all directions, creating a delectable mess around her head. Beneath his study, her dark brown lashes dipped over warm hazel eyes. Threadbare sweatpants and an extra-large sweater dwarfed her slim figure. She looked delicious. “Hey yourself.†Nick moved in, pulled the spoon from her lips and covered her mouth in a hungry kiss. Her body instantly molded into his, a familiar fit. He dipped his tongue between her tightly clamped lips, prodding to gain entry. A moment later, Nick realized his tongue was getting nowhere. Her lips sealed and unrelenting, she stiffened out of their perfect fit. “No sex, darling.†She squeezed the tub of yogurt so hard, the white pulp flowed over. “I’ve had the day from hell and the way it’s going, I’ll never be in the mood again.†“I’m not a total Neanderthal, all I wanted was a hello kiss.†Nick put his hands up and stepped away with a graceful grin. Courtesy of his buddies, he was about to ace PMS 101 with no demerits. “How about I make dinner tonight?†She grabbed a fresh spoon from the drawer behind her and waved it at him. “I’m already eating but feel free to indulge yourself.†Having permission to raid his own fridge, Nick set about doing just that without a word. Rows of yogurt tubs danced a jig before his eyes. He gave up on food and turned back to her. “Do we need quite so much yogurt, darling?†“We’re detoxing, darling.†“On bacteria?†Dry wit laced his voice. “I’ll have you know—†she bristled, flicking the spoon and sending a wad of white bacteria flying, “—yogurt is an excellent—â€
“That was a joke.†Definitely PMS. Which meant the topic of fridge allocation would have to wait for another day. “I’m going down to the deli.†At the look she gave him, he hastened to add, “To buy organic fat-free ham.†“Pork, darling? Seriously?†She shivered delicately. “Do we really need poison to clog your arteries and foreign aromas penetrating my tubs of yogurt?†“No fear of that, darling. From what I understand, penetration’s not on the cards tonight.†He took a deep breath, controlling his sanity with slow counting. One…this was a hurdle race. Two…clear the hurdles, one breath at a time. Three…how long could PMS last? One hour? Two? “Mind if I help myself to some of your yummy yogurt?†“It’s your fridge.†He grabbed a tub from the fridge, collected a spoon from a drawer and remembered to give her an understanding smile on his way to the sofa.  In the kitchen, Gemma stifled a bloodcurdling shriek. He wasn’t even going to question the No Sex, No Beer, No Food rule? She stamped on the pedal of the trash bin and tossed the tub inside with enough force to splatter the bin and surroundings with yogurt. With a few select words fizzling on her lips, she grabbed a wet cloth and sank to her knees, scrubbing away the mess, pretending it was Nick she was scrubbing from her raw nerve endings. Another thought came at her, winding her straight in the gut. What if Nick went elsewhere for sex and food? He could go on for years, living like a king on the streets while she survived on yogurt and went to bed alone every night with muck on her face. Her rules were insufficient. Gemma pushed to her feet and stormed from the kitchen. Nick lay sprawled across the sofa, legs dangling over the edge and TV remote in hand, idly flipping through the channels. “Not sports again.†She plucked the remote from his fingers to channel-hop until she found a perfectly unsuitable fashion show. “Fine,†he mumbled, drawing a hard glance from her that he either missed or chose to ignore. “There’s a good movie on later.†“There is?†She tossed the remote back on his lap, hoping to tempt him while she grabbed the listing from the table and flipped through the pages. He didn’t change the channel. He didn’t even pick up the remote. “Uh-huh.†He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes on a leisurely yawn, a man without a single worry in the world. “One of the old—†“Sleepless in Seattle’s on at nine.†His eyes shot open. “Bruce Willis in uniform?†A sliver of hope crept into his voice. “I hate action movies.†“You said you loved any movie with a man in uniform.†“I seldom say anything I do mean.†She dazzled a smile his way and patted his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, darling.†His gaze dulled from silver to unpolished iron. Finally he was starting to see what a bitch she was. Gemma gave him a careless shrug and sauntered off into the bedroom as if she didn’t have a dead weight tied around her throat, as if the baggage of all she’d said and done and all she was about to lose wasn’t sucking her down through the butt end of hell. It would be a matter of hours now, perhaps even minutes. She should be celebrating. So why did it feel as if her life had just ended? Was finding a soul mate worth all this? So what if Nick dumped her? So what if she ended up broken and alone? Her grimace deepened to a scowl. So what didn’t cut it. She expected a little more from life than nothing. She’d come this far, there must be something out there that would push Nick off the cliff. Her gaze swept the room. Heavy damask navy and maroon striped drapes hung from thick, plain wooden rods, the same design as the duvet cover and pillowslips. His bed was solid oak, stained dark and bordered on each side with matching bedside cabinets. On Nick’s side of the bed was an avantgarde wrought-iron lamp and a copy of some financial mogul’s autobiography. On her side—a glass of water with a faint lipstick mark near the rim. That was it. Wipe the glass and no one would notice that she lived here. She was a smudge in his life, a bit of mess he’d get around to cleaning up when he could be bothered. Gemma dashed into the bathroom, closing and latching the door before sinking to the floor in front of the vanity. Sniffing back useless sobs, she pushed aside a box of Tampax to reach the good stuff—the giant slab of chocolate, a bottle opener and the six-pack she’d cleansed from the fridge. She’d barely popped open the bottle when a knock startled her eyes to the door. “Gemma?†he called out. “Your movie’s about to start.†“Oh, thanks, I’ll be right out.†She waited a few seconds, until she was sure he’d left, then shoved blocks of chocolate into her mouth and chugged it down with beer. The pleasure didn’t last past the end of the first bottle.
Is this what I’ve become? What mate worth his weight in soul would want a secret chocolate-stuffing, beer-chugging shrew who lurked in bathrooms?
Good luck with that happily-ever-after, Madame Le Fate. On the other hand…
Obese alcoholic finds true love in rehab and lives happily ever after until dying excruciating death from cirrhosis of the liver twelve days later.
Chapter Fourteen
Gemma dropped her shopping bags outside the front door, fumbled in her jacket pocket for the key, then managed to get herself and most of her bags inside. “Nick, I’m home. Surprise, darling,†she said gaily when he popped his head around the corner. “You’re going to be a daddy.†The poor man tried to say something, but a guppie had taken up residence in his mouth. She took pity on him. “For the weekend, that is. We’re babysitting.†The rest of Nick emerged, slightly shaken but well on the road to recovery. “This weekend?†He drew her into a hug and dropped a kiss on her brow before pulling her along into the living room and onto the sofa. He gave her time to set her bags down and then he draped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side. “Isn’t this something we should have discussed beforehand, darling? We—I might have had other plans.†“It’s not like I could pick and choose the dates,†she said smoothly. “Helen was able to sneak him out this afternoon and with a spit of luck he won’t be missed until Monday.†Nick’s arm slid away as he bolted up from the sofa. “You and Helen snatched a baby?†His gaze flew from one end of the room to the other. “He’s here? In my apartment? Good God, Gemma, what have you done? Where is the baby?†She bent lazily to fumble through her shopping bags. “He was here a moment ago.†“You snatched a baby and now you’ve lost him?†Nick’s voice was fast becoming a contender for Miss Soprano. “Darn, I must have left him outside,†she muttered before realizing what Nick had said. Snatched? She was sure she’d told him Helen taught high school. But if he wanted to believe his crazy girlfriend was capable of being complicit in a baby snatching…yeah, that could work as well. “You did what?†he exploded. “My hands were full and I needed to get the door. Relax, Nick. He’s only outside in the hallway. It’s not like I left him in the street.†Nick raced from the room, leaving Gemma to make herself comfy on the sofa again. Trust Nick to explode over all the wrong things. He should be cursing her for bringing a baby into his male pad, not for forgetting the thing outside. Two minutes later he returned, pale as a ghost and his glare set in dark stone. “He’s gone,†he whispered gruffly, slowly making his way toward her. A doll, beautifully dressed in a frilly bodysuit, a blue ribbon wound around one tiny curl of authentic blond hair, dangled limply from his hand. “Nick, be careful with that. You can’t—†Gemma cut off as he tossed the doll onto the sofa and stumbled for the phone. “I’m calling the police. We have to turn ourselves in and hope to hell they find the baby.†But Gemma had another task on her hands. The doll’s pacifier had fallen from its mouth and the thing was bleating. She pressed the doll face-first into the padded cushion, but nothing killed the high pitch. “What the—†Nick stopped, his index finger poised in midaction. “This is our baby, you idiot.†She turned the doll over and stuck a finger between its plastic lips. Nick dropped the receiver and came over. “We’re babysitting a doll?†“Not just a doll, Nick, this is a RealCare doll.†If anything, his face blanked even more. “He’s programmed to act like a real baby and has fancy electronics built in to monitor the care we give him.†“It’s still a doll.†“It’s the Daddy Test.†Or, if you wanted to be pedantic, the Spot the Loony Girlfriend Test. “His name is Ross.†She patted the seat beside her, cradling the doll in her other arm. “I’m not getting any younger, darling, and I do want children one day. One day soon. Isn’t this a great test to see how we’ll do?†A flicker of amusement entered his gaze. “And if I fail?†“Don’t be silly, this isn’t a test you can fail. We’ll simply keep on at it, on and on, until you pass.†She held Ross up to him. “Helen knows where we can a get a cheaper baby secondhand if necessary, so we can practice until you’re ready.†Gemma’s arms wound protectively around the baby when Nick didn’t take him. Ross responded with a compelling scream. “At this rate,†Gemma said loudly over the curdling noise, “we’ll have to replace the battery pack—†“This thing has batteries?†Nick threw his hands up, as if he’d finally had enough. Except he obviously hadn’t. “Fine. We’ll babysit.†Gemma shot up off the sofa and pushed Ross into his arms. “Take care of him for a while, okay? I need a shower.†Nick grabbed the doll around the neck. “No, darling.†Gemma plucked his fingers away and settled Ross into his arms. “Remember, Ross is a baby.†He gave her a funny look, but disappeared into the kitchen, cradling the baby against his chest and looking good while doing it. With a tight smile, Gemma loped toward the bedroom. Of course Nick looked good with a baby in his arms. What had she expected? The end must be nigh, she could feel it pulling at her heartstrings, inching her toward that big breaky heart. But if there was one thing she excelled at, it was avoiding anything approaching heartbreak. She’d been doing it for years; just a little longer now. An hour later—she took her time in the shower—Gemma reappeared to find Ross asleep on the sofa and Nick opening a bottle of wine. He slipped the bottle into an ice bucket and looked up at her. “Shhh,†he whispered, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “He’s asleep.†“Great,†Gemma whispered back before giving herself a mental kick in the head. Ross was just a doll. “I’ve chilled a bottle of chardonnay for us and dinner’s almost ready.†“You cooked?†She couldn’t quite keep the awe from her voice as she poured herself a large glass. Nick winked and disappeared into the kitchen. He’d cooked. Huh. She sipped deeply, very deeply on her wine. And spluttered most of it out with her sigh of relief when he came back with a Perfecto Pizza box. “You didn’t cook.†“I wasn’t sure what your favorite is, but everyone likes—†“—double pepperoni,†she purred, practically salivating as she placed a slice on her plate. That was as close as she got before a
brain-splitting wail pulled her away from the table. She knelt beside Ross and inserted the pacifier. It popped out again. She reinserted it. Out it popped. Didn’t this thing come with instructions? Another try and once again the darn thing popped out. She looked to Nick. “Maybe he’s hungry?†he said around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. She went in search of the bags Helen had shoved into her hands earlier with a cheerful, “Everything you need’s in there, honey. Or
should I say, everything Nick needs…†Her mood lifted when she found disposable diapers tucked between feeding bottles and tins of white powder. She prepared the formula and watched Nick enjoy his meal while she fed Ross on the sofa. “Gemma, darling,†he said in between mouthfuls, “shouldn’t you burp him?†“What do you know about burping?†“Plenty. Most of my friends have kids.†“Then you don’t mind changing his diaper.†She tucked Ross into the corner of the sofa and grabbed her plate to take with her to the microwave. When she returned, Ross was exactly as she’d left him and Nick was still at the table, sipping wine and leaning back in his chair. She dumped her plate of soggy pizza on the table and sat. “He’ll start bleating again if you don’t do the diaper.†“All done.†Nick chuckled, amusement creasing his eyes. “You won’t believe it, but he was actually wet.†“How did you manage—? You know what? Never mind.†She pushed her plate away and stared at him. This was the last trick up her sleeve. The last cookie in her cookie jar. If he didn’t choke, she was out of options. Nick stood up from the table and grabbed the bottle of wine from the ice bucket. “Want to finish this on the balcony?†She followed the wine through the French doors. A gusty breeze caught her hair and whipped a couple of strands about her face, covering her eyes and tickling her cheek. When she pushed her hair back, Nick was looking at her with such a heady mix of passion and tender warmth that she was momentarily blinded. Blinded from her objective. Blinded from his objective, according to Madame Hooch. But, darn it all, how was she supposed to ignore that look in his eyes, the dimpled grin softening his jaw, the sexy finger beckoning her closer as he shifted on the outdoor armchair—He was doing it again with that soul-sucking gaze! “Someone has to look after Ross tomorrow,†she said smartly. “I’ve got a function, so it’ll have to be you.†“Fine.†She peered at him over the rim of her wineglass. “You sure?†“Yes.†Nothing fazed Mr. Cool. “We should try and get some sleep. No telling how much we’ll get tonight.†“Yeah, right.†He chuckled, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. An hour later, that chuckle and raised eyebrow made a whole lot of sense. Gemma had settled Ross onto a pillow by Nick’s side of the bed and crept beneath the covers, content to snuggle sleepily while she waited for him to finish in the bathroom. When he came out, looking good enough to eat in soft blue shorts and nothing else, she closed her eyes and pretended to be fast asleep. A few minutes later the mattress still hadn’t dipped with his weight and curiosity got the better of her. She sat up and leaned across. Nick was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was—oh, no, what was he doing? He had the nightgown up around Ross’s face and…No, he wasn’t! “Nick,†she shouted, “That’s disgusting!†He jerked up guiltily. “I thought you were asleep.†“You’re molesting our baby.†“No.†He threw Ross aside and shot up in one movement. “I—I’m not doing…that.†“What were you doing, then?†He grinned sheepishly, hands behind his back. “Nothing.†“Nick…†He sighed. “Removing the batteries.†Gemma was off the bed in a beat. She lifted Ross from the floor and straightened out his nightgown. “That’s cheating.†“Who’ll know?’ he insisted stubbornly. “I will. There’s a recorder inside Ross that tapes everything,†she warned. “It keeps statistics of feeding, crying periods and when and if the battery is turned off.†If there wasn’t really a monitoring device, there should be. What was the point of a doll like Ross if the thing could be turned off? After that, the night progressed smoothly. A little too smoothly for Gemma’s liking, but after ripping Ross’s pacifier out of his mouth four times and peeping at Nick’s fumbling efforts to placate the baby, she couldn’t keep awake one second longer. The morning brought a fresh supply of opportunity to drive him mad. “What do you mean you can’t take Ross?†Gemma asked. Hands on her hips, she’d cornered Nick by the door just as he was about to sneak off without a goodbye. “Have a heart, Gemma. How am I supposed to take a doll in to the office?†“It’s Saturday.†“Tell that to my schedule. I’ve got meetings all morning and a business lunch that will probably last most of the afternoon.†“You promised last night.†“Last night,†he said, his voice a little louder, “I thought I could remove the batteries without a major holocaust and stow our little Ross here in a cabinet.†“Ten points for honesty and minus ten for intent.†He lifted his brows testily. “You wouldn’t dare remove the batteries,†she reminded him. “Pack the brat’s things,†said Nick on his way to the bedroom. “I’ll take the damn doll to work.†She set about shoving random objects, which had somehow gotten themselves strewn across the living room between last night and this
morning, into the shopping bag.
By tonight it would all be over. Not even Nick would endure the ridicule from colleagues and clients. The certainty of her convictions tainted her emotions throughout the day. Life with Nick was about to come to an abrupt end. It was what she wanted. What she’d been working toward. The giant hole opening up inside her heart was all of her own doing. She’d been warned—she’d been forewarned by Madame Hooch and post-warned by Helen on a daily basis. She’d stayed in Nick’s bed far too long and the last few days of abstinence were not enough to purge him. Losing Nick was going to be much, much harder than she’d ever imagined. The luncheon Gemma was catering finished at three-thirty and she made her way home. Her date with fate could no longer be avoided. The apartment was quiet when she got in. Quiet and empty. She went to sit on the sofa, her hands folded on her lap. Visions of their short past flashed before her eyes like those idyllic postcards that one manages to bring back from even the most disastrous holiday. Their first meeting. Nick, so tall and gorgeous, sunglasses hooked around his neck and those gray eyes mesmerizing her. Their first date. Nick giving her that slow, dimpled grin across the table at Café Ital, melting her hostility and her bones all before their very first kiss. Their first romp. The rogue spark in Nick’s eyes as he flicked a dollop of cream at her, his thoughts clearly two steps ahead to when he’d throw his body over her and lick up every last drop. Their first night in, which had started with the Die Hard trilogy, detoured with a toe fight on the sofa and ended in a marathon of all-night sex. Their first barbecue. Their first week of living together in domestic bliss, when she’d forgot the plot and crashed the mission. The sound of the door opening brought Gemma to her feet. The door slammed and Nick came around the corner, a chuckle on his lips and a baby Ross hitched to his hip. “Hi, darling.†He propped his briefcase against the wall and waved Ross’s hand at her. “Say hello to Mummy, Ross.†Gemma’s eyes went wide. “He doesn’t talk, Nick. He’s a doll!†He plastered Ross back to his hip. “I guess I got carried away.†“You think?†She screwed her eyes at the striped blue-and-white bodysuit. “Is that a new outfit?†“The girls at the office took him shopping.†No wonder Nick wasn’t foaming four-letter-words at the mouth. “You off-loaded our precious bundle on strangers for the day?†“I’d hardly call Emma and Jennifer strangers. I had back-to-back meetings and couldn’t get a thing done with Ross at my side. This little man—†he lifted Ross up with a jiggle, “—is a total babe magnet. Every woman in the building made a point of passing by my desk.†“Luckily that won’t be a problem for long,†croaked Gemma as frustration bubbled up her throat. “You’ve passed the Daddy Test. Ross goes back tonight.†Maybe it was time to admit defeat. Maybe Madame Hooch had got this one wrong. This man—she gazed at Nick, her stomach going all warm and toasty—this man was prepared to go through hell for her and do it with a smile. All those maybes thread her postcards into a daisy chain that wrapped around her heart. Nick caught her around the waist. “How would you feel about returning the favor?†He pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly before explaining, “I’ve been wooing a new client for months but the old man is having one hell of a time with his board of directors. Seems he’s rustling feathers left and right and has uncovered an infestation of archaic principles.†Gemma was having a hard time concentrating. Nick’s hand had slipped under her T-shirt and found its way up to a lonely, neglected nipple. “The problem is my age.†Gemma glanced up into his eyes. “Too young?†“Too old. At thirty-six I’m supposed to be shackled with a household of kids.†“Poor baby. Maybe little Ross could help you past the first inspection round?†“The man is old, not blind.†She flicked her fingers through the ends of his hair. “I guess we could wash out the gray and pack your wrinkles with my beauty mask.†Nick grabbed her hand and held on to it. “I’m invited to an intimate dinner on Monday night, close family—most of whom make up his board of directors—and it would help if I brought along some family of my own.†His free hand came up to cup her chin, his thumb stroking her jaw and his gaze softening on hers. “Maybe we could try another little test. We’ll call this one the Fiancée Test.†“You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?†All at once she couldn’t breathe. “Not pretend, exactly.†His voice was gruff, low, barely audible. “A trial run?†She tried to push her way out of his embrace, but her limbs were suddenly sluggish, every muscle fusing to its bone. “I know I’m not doing this right, darling.†Nick wrapped her in closer. “Gemma, I love you. It took me a while to understand what I was feeling…I know a trial run isn’t exactly a romantic proposal…didn’t plan this…not the kind of thing I rush into…†His words were swerving in and out of the images popping up in her head. Simon. Mom. Nick. Helen. A hundred more faces, the hundred different expressions she’d pictured all too vividly as she had huddled deeper and deeper into herself, listening as her mom worked her way down the wedding guest list, armed with a standard opening line and a set of suitable responses to each guest’s horrified opinion. “…feels right and I don’t want to lose you…some time to let the idea settle in…†She hadn’t drawn a breath in minutes, and the faces were swirling faster and faster. Fiancée. Love. Proposal. I’m going to pass out. She erased the thoughts and images, might have shut down completely for a couple of seconds and came online again with a small gasp. “Nick, it—it’s fine.†She placed a finger over his lips. “A trial run’s great. I’m okay with everything, I really am. I’m okay.†She pushed off his lap and grabbed a few quick breaths. “I—I should probably go.†“Go where?†He stood slowly, his brow creased and his smile too weak to work up a dimple. “Ross…I need to get Ross back to Helen.†She backed away, smiling hard. “I won’t be long. I’ll see you in a bit.†She spun about and fled, stopping only to collect the damn doll. Nick had said he loved her. He’d proposed, sort of, some vague trial engagement period, but a proposal nevertheless. Madame Hooch was pulling out the big guns for the grand finale. She needn’t have bothered. Gemma’s chest pinched and
tightened, her heart choking on the blood that pumped too fast through too narrow ventricles. A water pistol would bring her down right now and that terrified her more than anything the universe threatened. Nick was a natural-born charmer, he said and felt things in the moment that were never intended to last beyond his current itch. She’d suspected as much from their very first date. He’d confirmed it when he’d declared that he saw no future with her, yet hadn’t kicked her out of his bachelor pad. Nothing had changed. She had to hold on to that. Because, when she lost Nick—if she started thinking that maybe he’d fallen in love with her, and then she lost him anyway—no, she wasn’t strong enough for that.
Chapter Fifteen
Nick accepted a second glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a slow sip as his gaze danced between Guido Gepperson and the arched entrance. “Nothing to get a man’s blood going like a one-on-one with a barracuda,†Guido was saying. “You must join us in the Caribbean next month. Leave the little missy at home for some good—†The man slapped his forehead with a look that was as fake as surprised forgetfulness could get. “Ah, that’s right, you don’t have a missy. Now my boy Thomas over there—†he pointed to a young man with the pouch of a sixty-year-old beer guzzler straining at his blazer buttons, “—has his head screwed on right. Made me a granddaddy two months ago, would you believe? Nothing more important than family, yessirree, keeps one grounded.†Nick’s gaze went to the archway again. They were enjoying pre-dinner drinks in a small reception room off the main restaurant and if Gemma didn’t get here soon, he’d have to make her apologies and suggest they start dinner without her. She’d called earlier to say she would meet him at the restaurant because she was running late, but in this case Nick suspected it might be never rather than late. His stupid Fiancée Test was a stupid halfproposal gone all the way bad—she’d been acting odd and distracted ever since and who could blame her? He wasn’t a complete moron. But admitting he was in love, even to himself, had stretched him to his outer limits. Into a space he wanted to explore with her, with boundaries he looked forward to pushing together…Not that she’d given any indication of her own feelings. Would she have, if he hadn’t made such a damn mess of it? He couldn’t believe she felt nothing. Why else would she have moved in? Then there was all that crap about being together all the time, which seemed a lot less crappy now…well, except for the part about being glued by the bone. That still sounded creepy, but even that didn’t put him off. Nothing had. His buddies might be the reason he’d always gone back so quickly, but Gemma alone was the reason he stayed. He should just have told her he loved her and let the rest follow naturally. Maybe he was a complete moron. Across the room, he saw Armando converse with the maître d’ and glance at his watch. Guido caught him looking at Armando and grunted. “Don’t know what’s come over my brother lately, shaking things up all over the place as if it wasn’t going along fine already. Not that I’ve anything against you and Gravell,†he added when Nick raised a brow at him. “And this sliding banner scheme could be something to consider. In fact my other boy, Andros over there—†he pointed again but this time Nick didn’t bother looking, “—had the same idea just recently, believe it or not—†Nick chose not to believe the coincidence. “—but why link our Gepperson brand to a transport service we can’t control? If Gravell’s goes bust, we’re left high and dry—†“Your brother has all my accounting books for the last six years,†Nick told the idiot as he watched Armando extract himself from present company and head his way. “Gravell’s has grown each year and our finances are strong.†“Yes, yes, we’ve seen the books and I’m not saying anything, wouldn’t breathe a word against you or Gravell, fine company you’ve got there if I do say so myself. Still, a man like you, fancy-free and no commitment, no saying where you may want to take yourself or Gravell or what path you might drag us down. I’m just saying I’d sleep easier at night if you had a family to keep you grounded and—†“Nick has both feet firmly on the ground,†Armando cut through his brother’s drivel. He put his hand on Nick’s arm and pulled him aside. “One’s obliged to love one’s family, but no law says you have to like them.†Nick smiled at the old man. “You did warn me.†“Guido’s scared I’ll shake my will and his boys will fall out.†Armando shook his head. “The good Lord didn’t see fit to bless Mary and me with children, so I suffer my nephews’ incompetence, but some days it’s harder than others.†He gave Nick a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Just heard some rumblings about those nephews of mine, the blighters think they have cause to declare me senile and hijack the shares I haven’t signed over to them yet. Ungrateful bastards.†Nick’s brow shot up. “Because you want to do business with an unmarried man?†“Because at your age, if you’re not and never have been married, your private life is suspect and puts Gepperson’s family values at risk.†At Nick’s choking rattle, Armando quickly said, “That’s just an excuse for their arsenal, my boy, don’t take it personally.†He glanced around the room. “Where is your special lady, by the way? You did say you were bringing someone, didn’t you?†“She got stuck downtown, but will be along shortly. We should probably start dinner without her.†Nick’s gaze went to the archway, and there she…Gemma? Gone was the delectable mess of ash-blond locks, replaced by shocking pink dreadlocks. Was that a—an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips? “Nicky, baby,†she drawled, coming forward into the sudden hush that had descended on the Gepperson troupe. As she drew closer, he saw that the sleeve on her left arm was in fact a tattoo of red and black bramble roses from wrist to shoulder. Which explained why her outfit only had one sleeve, but it didn’t explain much else about anything. The silver studded bra, masquerading as a top, bared her midriff and the red leather micro-mini didn’t cover much beyond the curve of her backside. Nick’s blood heated over as his gaze traveled down a long, long pair of fishnet stocking-clad legs. Gemma’s eyes went to the old man at his side and she froze on the spot. Nick covered the steps between them. He draped his arm over her shoulder and turned around to face Gepperson’s icy disapproval with her. “Was Perfect Parties hosting a fancy dress function?†he whispered at her ear. “When you said you’re running late…†She looked up at him with horror in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open and the cigarette dropped to the floor. “It’s okay, darling.†His grip tightened on her shoulder a fraction. Hot damn, Gravell’s would survive without one more lucrative contact. Gepperson and his brood could disapprove of him until the cows came out at night, but Gemma was off-limits. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t take the time to change. What would you say about skipping dinner and getting out of here?†“Nick, I can’t—I’m so sorry—†She pulled away from him. “Excuse me, I have to…†His arm fell off her and to his side. He was too stunned to even wonder at what the hell was going on as he watched her hurry toward Armando. Â
This isn’t happening. She’d numbed her heart, blanked out the world and zeroed in on Madame Hooch’s other promises. Better that than wondering how much of that half-assed proposal Nick actually believed himself. She couldn’t go there. If she hadn’t been so bloody narrow-sighted, she’d have seen this coming. She’d lost Nick—she’d never had him—and now she’d be lucky if Gepperson didn’t sink Perfect Parties to boot. The only blip on the horizon was some elusive soul mate whom she’d never wanted and would probably find some way of messing up too. She’d catered to Madame Le Fate too darn long and she had sucked Gemma dry.
Take Perfect Parties. Take my heart. Take my damn soul. But you don’t get Nick! The panic attack that had lasted through two straight days shredded to bits on the edges of her razor-sharp nerves. So, Nick had said he loved her and it had frightened her half to death. So, he’d sort of proposed and her past had collided with Madame Hooch’s predicted future and driven her close to pure madness.
It ends here. She walked up to the pale-faced Gepperson, grabbed his hand and pumped it hard. “Good evening, Mr. Gepperson.†His hand was limp in hers, as if a handshake was beyond his current capabilities. “May I have a word with you in private?†She dragged him out the reception room while he was still too mesmerized to put up a fight. Straight past the maître d’ who’d stuttered and fluttered at her moments ago. Through the impressive walnut doors that opened onto a quiet side street. She led Gepperson to one of the restaurant’s street-side tables, pushed him into a wrought-iron chair and sat down opposite him. “This isn’t what it looks like,†she started. “This isn’t…do you have any idea…?†He raked his hands through his thinning hair and grunted. “Is there any chance you’ll let me leave quietly and forget any of this ever happened?†“You think no one else recognized you?†Gepperson muttered. “It’s Nick I’m concerned about. The only mistake he ever made was getting involved with me. Can’t you just go back in there and tell everyone I’m some loony who slipped past reception? Please, Armando…†She reached over to take one of his hands in hers. “I don’t know what to say.†Gepperson shuffled in his seat and took his hand back. “You’re Nick’s lady?†He shook his head. “Maybe I am getting old. He must have mentioned your name, but I never put you two together.†“Will you help me?†She didn’t try to keep the desperation from her voice, the pleading from her eyes. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll negate our contract without litigation. It’s me you want to get rid of, not Nick.†“Except the two of you come as a pair.†“Not after tonight,†said Gemma sadly. Gepperson leaned back and folded his arms. “From where I stood, nothing about tonight changed what that boy feels for you.†“Everything about tonight changed what he—†Gemma stopped short and forced her mind back to that moment of frozen horror when her world had upended and dumped all her atrocities on her head.
I’m kind of glad you didn’t take the time to change. What would you say about skipping dinner and getting out of here? She’d been too busy hating herself to take notice of the one person loving her. She’d flunked his Fiancée Test and he’d put his arm around her and given her a comforting squeeze. From the start, he’d been her rock, moving slow but always steady. She was the one who was as flaky and full of bullshit air as puff pastry.
Nick does love me. She stilled her mind and body, waiting for the impact. Nothing came.
Nick loves me. He proposed because he’s in love with me. Yes, one day he’ll dump me, but until then… And she wasn’t falling apart. Not being strong enough to have his love and lose him had never been the problem. She’d been afraid to trust in him, afraid to believe he loved her and then discovering she’d been wrong. As wrong as she’d been about Simon. She’d blocked Nick and given him more faults than he deserved in order to protect herself. But she was done with that. She was heart-sore and weary. Loving Nick, being loved by Nick, made her stronger, not weaker. God knew, she needed all the strength she could get right now. Her heart deflated when she looked Gepperson in the eye. If she and Nick had a chance at forever-after, she might fight harder. “I-I’ll break up with Nick. You don’t have to worry about me getting in the way.†Nick deserved better than her and she deserved to lose him. Her thoughts bled back in time, to the beginning of this crazy journey, to Madame Hooch tapping that Nine of Hearts and beaming her wrinkled smile. “First the big breaky heart and then you find soul mate.†One: She’d turned Helen’s wedding into a disaster zone with Nick at the center of the storm. Two: She’d moved into his apartment after a few short weeks of staggered dating. Three: She’d infested his domain with the facial mask from hell. The stink had lingered for days. Four: She’d threatened bodily harm if he so much as attempted to live his own life. Five: She’d taken possession of his fridge. Six: The no sex rule. Seven: Babe Magnet Ross. She should have learned her lesson then. Eight: The Fiancée Fiasco. Nine: She blinked furiously at Gepperson, struggling to keep down an insane giggle. Nine: The joke’s on me! Madame Hooch’s Joker was not so irrelevant after all. Now, when she’d finally given up chasing the tail end of her doomed story, when she was finally able to allow herself to just love Nick a little while, until Fate do us part…Now, she had no choice but to dump him for his own good, for the sake of his business. The joke’s on me and that stupid soul mate Madame Hooch promised—I never stood a chance.
A frown settled over Gepperson’s shaggy brows. “Tell me what tonight was all about. What were you hoping to accomplish?†“It’s a long story.†“I’ve got time.†Gemma cleared her throat and started talking. Once she’d started, everything came tumbling out. Madame Hooch’s predictions, how they’d all come true and how she’d set out to second-guess fate. By the time she ran out of words, Gepperson’s face had ran out of expressions to hear them with. The wind had picked up, whipping Gemma’s dreadlocks at her cheeks. She reached up to pick out the grips and tore the wig away. Gepperson spoke then, his voice a gruff bark, “Don’t you hurt that boy.†“Nick will do just fine without me,†she assured him. “He may think he loves me, but the one thing I’m sure about is that he’s destined to break up with me. All I’m doing is hurrying his decision along and I’ll let him down as easily as I can.†“You won’t let him down at all. Gemma, I will not dismiss everything you’ve told me as nonsensical. When one gets to my age, nothing seems too far out to be true. But you have to listen to your heart.†His eyes shone with passion as he thumped his chest with a fist. “This, young lady, this will tell you much more than any fortune-teller.†“I’ve already figured that part out,†Gemma said quietly. “A little too late to matter.†“It’s never too late to do the right thing.†Gemma squinted at him. “What are you…are you saying you won’t force me to give Nick up?†The warmth of Gepperson’s smile cast a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s been living at rifle point of late. Fate for you and for me a boardroom of stuck-up old men who cannot see past their noses and grasping nephews with more greed than sense.†The sparkle in his eyes faded to a dark mist. “I want Perfect Parties and I want Gravell’s and I intend to have my way.†He stood up and held out a hand to her. “Come on, you’ve got your man there wondering where you’ve gone.†Gemma took his hand and let him lead her inside. “What are you going to tell them?†“This may be the last decision I ever make as head of Gepperson’s, but I’ll be standing at the helm and enjoying every second of it until they send me to a watery grave. I’m so well past my sell-by date, I may yet beat them to it.†Nick was waiting for them in the reception. He grabbed her hand, pulled her to his side and scowled at Gepperson. “Your wife asked me to let you have your talk with Gemma. She insisted you’d not upset her. I hope that trust was not misplaced.†“My Mary is never wrong,†said Gepperson with a chuckle. “Please excuse us tonight,†Nick said, his voice stiff and formal. “We won’t be staying for dinner.†“I understand.†He gave Gemma a broad wink and walked off with a parting, “I’ll call you in the morning, Nick.†Nick turned his full attention on Gemma, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. “Everything okay?†“Yes.†She gazed up at him, felt that bond tugging at her smile and tacking her heart back together patchwork-style. She knew it couldn’t last, knew their time was almost up. But she was determined to crush the ghosts of her past, stop living in the future and treasure each and every second of the present. He jerked his head in Gepperson’s direction. “What was that about?†“Business. I signed a partnership agreement with Gepperson a while back and I think I just shocked his board of directors to high heaven.†“You and Gepperson?†“Me, you and Gepperson.†She walked her fingers up his chest. “Apparently you and I don’t talk nearly enough.†“That’s the least of the things I’ve done wrong in this relationship.†His hand closed over her fingers, pressing them to his heart. Gemma nodded. “Perfect Parties is contracted to create a new range of blueberry products.†“And we’re in the process of bidding for an exclusive transport contract with Gepperson.†He swung her hand in his, down to his side, and walked them toward the reception. “Although I suppose I should use past tense now.†“Gepperson wants Gravell’s. I don’t know if he’ll succeed, but he intends to fight his board to keep both of us.†She tugged at his hand, waiting until he slanted his head to look at her. “Nick, I’m sorry about tonight. I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t once consider the consequences for your business.†“That’s not entirely your fault, Gemma, I’ve never spoken much about Gravell.†They collected their coats from the desk and Gemma was grateful to cover herself up. He took her hand again as they left the restaurant. “I knew this was a work dinner and important to you,†she said as they stepped outside. She’d been so focused on antagonizing Nick, she hadn’t even thought about tonight being more than a personal blow for him. “God, I’m such a selfish mess. How could I come here dressed like this?†She tried to pull her hand from his, but he wouldn’t allow her. “You’ve been working long hours, darling, you’re obviously overtired and not thinking straight.†She glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. Numerous cabs passed by where they stood on the curb, but Nick made no move to flag one down. She wanted to lie outright so badly, agree with him, her insides hurt. She looked at him again, at the tenderness in his gaze, at the concern creasing his brow, and knew she couldn’t. “Do you believe in fate?†she asked. “Fate?†He shrugged. “As in star-crossed lovers and all that?†“And all that.†She gave a small laugh. “As in having a predetermined path laid out for your life?†He thought on that awhile, then shook his head. “I believe we make our own choices.†“I used to believe that too,†she said softly. “But that didn’t stop everything from coming true anyway.†“I’m not sure what—wait, are you saying that what happened here tonight was somehow foretold…predicted?†His brow arched in clear amusement. “Written in the zodiac?†Another easy exit, and this time she hesitated long and hard before deciding not to take it. She swallowed with difficulty, wishing she had some of Madame Hooch’s foresight now as to how Nick would take this. She didn’t want to lose him. Not yet. Not tonight. “I didn’t come directly from a function, Nick. I deliberately dressed like this to—to short-circuit what fate had planned for me, I guess.†Nick chuckled, until he apparently realized she was being serious. “You wanted to ruin this dinner?†His grip went slack and she slid her hand from his, folding her arms across her chest. “I was trying to protect myself.†“From me?†A couple of hours ago, Gemma would have nodded with conviction. Now there was only truth. “From myself. I was engaged, years ago,
and it ended badly.†“God, Gemma, you never—†“Simon was a long time ago.†She placed a finger across his lips. “Simon.†The name rolled off his tongue like a curse. When he started to say more, she stopped him. “Another time, Nick, maybe.†His jaw went rigid, as if he were clenching his teeth, then relaxed. “When you’re ready.†“The point is,†she said, aware that they’d veered completely off the Madame Hooch track, but this was just as relevant to this evening’s chaos, “when you proposed, even as a joke, I ran scared and I messed up.†The busy side street, the music from an open café across the way, the passing traffic…nothing was loud enough to fill the silence that opened up between them. Suddenly the truth seemed so insignificant, so useless, she wished she’d gone with the lies instead. “You can’t forgive me, I know. I must seem like a total nutcase to you and, in all honesty, I probably am.†His gaze narrowed on her, not in anger, but in a searching, trying-to-comprehend way. Then he sighed. “Hot damn, Gemma, I don’t understand half the stuff you do. The guys always seemed to have some explanation or excuse, and I went along with it, telling myself it made sense, but it doesn’t. Not all of it. Not really.†“Nick, I’m sorry.†She turned her eyes downward. What more was there to say? She stepped back, reluctant to walk away, knowing he didn’t want her to stay. He reached out, brought his palms down on her shoulders. Her gaze shot up. “I’m still here, Gemma. I always came back and that’s not changing now.†He moved closer, his eyes on her, his grin dimpled. “I came back because I’ve been falling in love with you from the beginning. I’ll always come back to you.†Gemma blinked away tears. He brought his head down, his jaw scraping against her cheek. “I love you, darling.†“I love you too,†she whispered into his neck, then said louder, “Oh, Nick, I love you so much.â€
Chapter Sixteen
Gemma let out a monster yawn, stretching her cramped limbs in all directions and immediately coming up against the familiar warmth of Nick’s body. A smile caught the tail end of her yawn. She rolled over to spoon behind him, as she had every morning for the last three weeks, and slid her arm over his hip. Nick grumbled beneath his breath as he came awake. By the time he rolled her way, his sleepy face sported a sexy morning smile. “Did no one ever tell you Sunday mornings were made for sleeping in?†She stroked a finger playfully along the line of his hip bone. “Go back to sleep. I’ll have fun enough for the both of us.†He was up and over her before she could blink, shifting between her thighs and trailing kisses down her throat. She arched in pleasure as he slid deep inside her and aroused her with the slow, intermittent strokes of a man who was in the mood for loving and in no rush to get anywhere fast. “That,†said Gemma a good while later, “is what Sunday mornings are for.†He cupped her face between his palms and held her gaze in his. “What about Sunday afternoons?†Gemma chuckled. “Afternoon naps, old man?†He rolled back onto her in a flash. “Did you just call me an old man?†“No. No, Nick!†she screamed as he tickled all her weak spots. She kicked at him, tried to threaten all sorts of torture, but all that came out was spurts of giggles. At last he stopped. She gave him one last kick. He poised his tickling fingers at her again and she cried mercy. “I forgive you, but only because I love it when you beg.†He rolled off the bed and into the bathroom with an exaggerated swagger. Gemma curled beneath the covers, listening to Nick’s shower routine.
I love it when you beg. A smile curved her lips as she filed that away with all the rest. She was building a fortress, a sanctuary of memories to sustain her in case fate came calling. Gemma sighed and dragged herself out of bed before Nick reappeared to tempt her with his skimpy towel routine. She was meeting Helen for brunch and Nick had some or other male-bonding plans involving Patrick’s, the New York Giants and a large-screen TV. It was just past three when Gemma let herself back into the apartment. She kicked her shoes off and slid onto the sofa, flicking through the TV channels until she found the game. With the commentary running in the background, she tucked her feet in, rested her head back and settled in to wait for Nick. She closed her eyes, only for a minute… Â
She was huddled in a dark corner of some airless room with Helen’s voice floating around her like whisperings on a breeze. “He’s going to do it, honey. When you least expect, when you’re most vulnerable, he’s going to slice and dice—†the voice changed and Gemma was speaking, “—the onions and sauté on a low flame for a minute before adding a teaspoon of castor sugar.†Gemma peered over the open flame into the darkness. “Paul, come closer, you need to see what I’m doing.†Where was he? Desperation churned inside her as she stirred the onions in the pan. He needed to be here. Where was he? Why was he hiding? Didn’t he know how important this was? She couldn’t stop stirring. She couldn’t put the pan aside and go look for him. She knew she should, but she couldn’t. “This isn’t funny, Paul. I know you’re there.†Smoke from the flames stung her eyes. She was in a closed room with an open fire. She was going to burn the house down. She had to stop stirring. She had to put the flames out before they swallowed her and her entire world. She tried to put the pan down, but her arm went rigid and refused to obey. She was a hazard to everyone in her life, risking everything with one atrocity after the other—she had to put everything down and walk away—she couldn’t, not until the onions and sugar were slightly burned and then she had to roll the pastry. Everything else paled beneath the urgent need deep inside, pushing her on. Someone stood there in the darkness. She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t have him. But she could feel him. Helen’s voice was back. “He’s not your happy-ever-after, honey. You have to leave. You know how this ends—get out while you can.†“I just need a few more seconds. Where is Paul? I have to show him the proper way to do this before Gepperson changes his mind and cancels our contract.†She was sobbing now. Choking on the flames and smoke and the unbearable pain licking at her chest. “I can’t leave before I’m done.†A new voice boomed somewhere beyond the fire and in the blackness. “I mean it, Gemma, I want you out.†“I don’t want to go, Nick.†She stirred fast and furiously now. “Please, just give me a chance to show you how this is done.†“Pack your bags and get out.† Gemma’s eyes drifted open to find Nick had her by the arm, jerking her up from the sofa. His face was a scowl of thunder and his eyes flashed like gray lightning. She looked passed him, confused and half-asleep, to the blaring TV.
The game’s still on. Nick wouldn’t come home before the end of the game. He’s not really here. She closed her eyes to go back to the comfort of her nightmare. “Pack your bags, Gemma,†growled Nick. “Pack your bags and get out of my life.â€
He threw her arm away and she opened her eyes again to see him taking a step back.
Nick’s here and I’m no longer dreaming. He’s here and he really wants me out. She stared at his rigid face. A hundred questions jumped up her throat, demanding answers and a right to some explanation. She swallowed through the raw emotions instead and dragged her body straight from the sofa into the bedroom. She’d known she was living on borrowed time with Nick. The where and when and how and why were just semantics. She heaved her suitcase onto the bed and systematically went through the bedroom and the bathroom, removing herself from Nick’s life. She should be happy. Nick was dumping her. She’d trumped that Joker and won herself the hand of a soul mate. Some mysterious man around the next bend of her stinking life who was so darn wonderful, he’d grow roses from the pit of manure she’d buried herself in. She didn’t care. She didn’t want some random soul mate and she didn’t want roses. She didn’t want anything or anyone if she couldn’t have Nick. What had finally pushed him off the edge? A part of her would need to know that one day…but not today. Right now she needed to get out of here, she needed to be alone, somewhere safe where she could quietly break apart.  Nick paced the living room in quick, combustive strides. He came up against a wall and smashed out with his fist. The crack in the plaster and the blood scraped across his knuckles had nothing on the ache inside. Love was a fool’s game, coordinated and manipulated by the biggest fool of them all, that Prince of Chance. What were the chances that he’d find the right woman, right place, right time? What were the chances that Billy’s wife would run into Mary Gepperson at the hair salon? What were the chances they’d get to chatting, that Jenny just happened to be arranging Billy’s fortieth, that she’d make a random inquiry about any good caterers in the area? Of course Mary Gepperson knew of an excellent caterer, one her husband had recently gone into partnership with, one who even came with a quirky little story that you’d never believe. His fist slammed the wall again. He’d tried to not believe. Damn her to hell, how could he not believe? He hadn’t just lived through every damn quirk in that damn story, he’d been the main damn character! He’d taken the blame, made excuses and invented explanations. And then, when he couldn’t do that any longer, he’d decided to just to be happy with not understanding. Anything went, so long as he could love Gemma. He’d even ignored that stupid conversation where she’d openly admitted to—how had she termed it?—short-circuiting fate! Now he’d had enough. No more excuses. No more explanations. No more Gemma. He could have let her walk straight out the door. Her head was down, her feet stumbling over each other and the two suitcases she pulled behind her in her haste to get out of his life. He should have. But she hadn’t even raised a single question. Not one astonished blink or shout of protest. She’d wanted out before she’d got in and she was too shit scared to stick around in case he changed his mind. “I’m real sorry I slowed you down,†he spat out, “but I guess that’s part and parcel of the hunt and chase.†She stopped at the front door and turned to him. “Wh-what did you say?†Her eyes were swollen and her voice raw. Real or make-believe? It didn’t matter. He had no pity to spare. It was his heart that was breaking, not hers. “You’d better hurry, darling, that soul mate’s got a head start and unless he’s an even bigger fool than me, he’ll be bolting across the state line.†She dropped the handles of her suitcases and came up to him. “Soul mate?†“I know everything, Gemma.†He tried to keep his voice hard, but the weariness crept in. “I know the whole damn story.†She nibbled at her bottom lip, looking up at him with large, watery eyes. “What is it you think you know?†Julia Roberts wasn’t such a good actress. Was it possible there’d been some mighty mistake? He’d called Armando after storming out of Patrick’s and the old man had confirmed Billy’s story. Not in so many words, but hadn’t Armando apologized for his wife’s loose tongue? The man had certainly denied nothing. Nick decided to give her a chance, to play the fool’s game one last time. “I’m talking about your little pact with fate, Gemma, how you’ve been wrapping my world around some crazy fortune-teller’s crooked finger.†“Helen told you?†she gasped. “Armando Gepperson,†he corrected. So, her friend was in on the fun and games. He was the last clown standing. Hell, he’d still be accepting everything damn thing she threw at him, making excuses left, right and center, if not for this, the one thing he could not forgive. “I was never anything more to you than a pit stop on your race to find another man.†“No, Nick.†The first time she’d told him she loved him, had been straight after the dinner she’d purposely ruined in the hope that he would hurry up and dump her. How was he supposed to trust anything she’d said and done after that? Along with everything else, he was done listening. “I should have believed you,†he said. “When you said you were a total nutcase, I should just have agreed and walked away. But you’re not even crazy, are you? You’re just a coldhearted bitch and I was always just the stooge in your twisted game.†She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that.â€
Tears streamed down her cheeks as her eyes pleaded for something. What the hell more he had to give was beyond him. Her hands came up, then dropped limply at her sides. “In the beginning, maybe, but even before I realized…long before I allowed myself to admit I was falling in love with you, I knew—I knew—it was all really about not getting my heart broken again.†He spun away from her with a brutal laugh. “Good luck to the man who tries, he’ll need a damn sledgehammer.†He stood with his back to her and grief dragging the skin down from his jaw to pad his heart, until at last he heard his front door click closed behind her. “I loved you,†he said softly, tears burning inside his eyes. “Damn you, I was going to ask you to marry me, for real this time.†He’d been willing to marry her twice. She’d never said much more about her ex-fiancée, Simon, except that she’d been over him a long time ago and that he’d left her the night before the wedding. Nick had intended suggesting a quiet civil ceremony first. If they were already married on paper, she’d have nothing to fear, no past demons to face when they confirmed their vows in a big splash wedding afterward. He rubbed the heel of his palm across his eyes and cursed the whole damn universe to hell as he marched to his bedroom. From the top drawer beside his bed, he grabbed the tiny velvet box stowed at the very back and went to fling the window open. As soon as he saw Gemma step onto the pavement outside his building, he called down, “I have no need for this,†and tossed the box. She looked up as she took another step and crushed the last remnant of his deluded hopes and happiness beneath her foot.
Chapter Seventeen
“Gemma, honey, get your dancing shoes out. I’ve sent Frank off for a boys’ night out and I’m not taking no for an answer.†Gemma shook her head, then remembered Helen couldn’t see from her end of the line. “I’ll bite next time ’round, I promise.†“This is next time ’round. Come on, Gem, we’ll only stay as long as you want.†“Not tonight,†said Gemma firmly. “I’m exhausted.†“That excuse is getting old. I’m seven months’ pregnant and I’m not half as exhausted as you claim to be.†“Isn’t it illegal to dance after six months?†tried Gemma. “That’s flying, honey, and I’m not buying.†“Helen…†Her hand went to the makeshift pendant dangling from her throat. The pain was physical, the hole in her heart real. She put on the smiles, automated her life one cheery day at a time—did she have to dance a jig as well? “You know things have been hectic here at Perfect Parties. I’m run off my feet and we’re shooting that advertisement with Gepperson in the morning. Rain check?†“Rain check, brain check,†scoffed Helen, then went quiet. Silence stretched so long, Gemma wondered if she’d hung up. Half-hoped she had. But Helen came back, her voice soft and gentle, “I’m not going to let you serve another Simon sentence, honey.†Gemma sighed. The years Helen referred to had nothing to do with Simon. She hadn’t been hiding from a broken heart; she’d been waiting for Nick. She knew that now. “The only thing I’m serving is a tapas banquet for the Collindales—†she glanced at her watch and groaned, “—in less than three hours. I have to go.†She snapped her cell shut before Helen could launch into the technicalities of tracking and snaring a soul mate. The last thing she could contemplate now was hooking up with another man. She’d had the only one she’d wanted and she’d lost him. She’d blame Madame’s Hooch’s Joker on the way that screw had turned, but Gemma was done with fate. She flicked open her cell again, punched in Nick’s number, and then, as she did every day, stared at it for long minutes without hitting Send. There was nothing to say. He had accusations a mile long and she had no defense. “A delivery of blueberries has arrived.†Paul’s voice preceded him up the stairs. “There seems to be a problem. The driver’s new, haven’t seen him before—†Her pulse rate hit the ceiling. “A man?†“Yeah, steaming hot for a delivery man.†She arched a brow at him as she stood. “And you wonder where we went wrong with those ideas we had about you.†“I was thinking of you.†Paul rolled his eyes and his cheeks went red. “Stupid idea, anyway. Whatever…he insists the owner sign off the delivery.†He reversed to rush down the stairs again and her heart smashed between her toes. What was the matter with her? A Gravell’s delivery van turned up every other day with fresh blueberries and nothing else. Certainly never Nick. One new driver with one new problem and her heart stole wings from fairy tales? “What stupid idea?†she called out suspiciously, but Paul was gone. Gemma made her way down the stairs and across the warehouse floor, not surprised to see Paul and Tessa huddled in conversation. Between them and Helen, there was always some or other matchmaking scheme underway. She hoped they hadn’t accosted the poor driver and bribed him into something. She went out through the large steel roller door at the back entrance, immediately struck blind by the midday sun. She paused until her vision adjusted, then squinted at the man leaning against the van with folded arms and one long denim-clad leg crossed over the other. His dark hair curled into his neck and a dimpled grin broke the harshness of his square jaw. Her legs buckled and the white noise of New York City traffic went still around her. “Hello, Gemma,†Nick said, his drawl a fine whisky, aged just right. Next thing, he was coming at her and Gemma sucked in a gulp of pure steel. Darn it all, for whatever reason, Nick was here and she’d be damned if she up and fainted on him. She put on a smile and matched his drawl. “What? Have all your deliverymen gone on strike?†He stopped a breath from her, his gaze a caress that flipped her heart inside out. “I’m collecting, not delivering.†“Oh, I see.†Her hand went to the pendant at her breast. It wasn’t hers. Never had been. If he wanted his ring back, then he must have met someone else. She turned her back on him, fighting down a spurt of tears she had no claim to, and undid the clasp of the chain at her nape with trembling fingers. His arms came around her waist. The length of her spine rested up against his torso and the heat whispered lies straight to her soul. But no, not lies. “I promised I’d always come back to you,†he said at her ear. When he turned her around to face him, when he gazed down into her eyes and shared the truth, she could no longer stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. “Why? Why would you forgive me?†She brought her hands down, clutching the thin gold chain and diamond ring. “Why would you want me after all I’ve done?†“Because I’ve tried,†he said simply. He opened her hands in his and threaded the chain free from the ring. “I’ve tried to live without you and I can’t. I was always coming back, darling, I just needed time to cool down and sort through things in my head before I was ready to admit that to myself.†“I’m no good for you.†“I know.†He held her left hand up, stroking each individual finger as his gaze burned places deep inside her that she’d thought frozen over forever. “I do stupid things.†“I know.†Slowly, he separated her fourth finger and slid the ring on. Then he tucked her hand up against his chest and pulled her into a kiss that tasted of tears and honey and heartache and whiskey.
When he released her lips and crushed her cheek against his chest in a tight hug, she whispered, “I love you.†He heard. “I know.†Gemma laughed, her first real laugh in months. “You’re very sure of yourself. I haven’t said yes, you know.†“I know.†He walked on, keeping her tucked to his chest. “That’s why I’ve got a backup plan.†They reached the van and he tugged open the back doors. The inside had been stripped and laid out with a satin-pink mattress. A picnic basket sat beside a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver ice bucket, and hundreds of rose petals had been strewn across it all. Symphony music played softly in the background and some kind of projector threw images of sun and sky and clouds up on the interior of the van’s roof. “Pink satin?†was the best she could come up with. “Too much?†He lifted her inside, muttering as he joined her, “I have to stop listening to those guys.†Gemma wriggled farther in and lay down on the mattress, staring up at the projected drifting clouds. Her euphoria slipped a little. “Happiness doesn’t come this easy.†“Actually,†said Nick, shifting in alongside her, “it’s been downhill all the way. Until now.†He rolled onto an elbow and she turned her gaze on him. “I want to believe all of this is real.†He tipped her nose with his finger and smiled. “Helen came to see me—†“She was just on the phone to me, begging me to go dancing tonight!†“She came to see me last month and we had a good, long talk about everything that had happened. She told me what that bastard Simon did to you—the long version, not yours.†His finger left her nose to trail the path of dried tears at her cheek. “I remembered what you’d said, about not getting your heart broken again. Those words kept at me until I wasn’t sure if I was listening with my heart or head and whether I could trust either. In the end, none of that mattered. Still, I needed time before I was ready to forgive.†“Nick, I’m sorry. I did everything possible to push you away, but you kept coming back. All you did was love me and I was too afraid to see it.†“I’m no saint, darling. It was my damn stubborn pride that brought me back the first couple of times. I was determined to learn from our relationship, understand where I’d gone wrong before, and I refused to fail.†He rolled the other way and came back with the bottle of champagne. “I’m not even sure exactly when that stubbornness turned into love, but it was all love that brought me crawling back here today.†Gemma didn’t care why he had kept coming back, only that he had. And with each time, her heart had opened a little wider; some dark, hidden part of her had believed a little more that love was bigger than the mistakes she could or would make in a relationship. Perhaps this was the real meaning of Madame Hooch’s Joker. All the time she’d been chasing circles around Nick and love, she’d been learning that he’d never give up on her. “I blamed myself when Simon left. He’s such a spontaneous, straightforward and honest guy, it must have been something awful I’d done that sent him running.†“That’s not true.†She smiled at him. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Nick. I did so many things wrong with us, but I couldn’t do anything terrible enough to send you away, except not love you. And I do, I love you so very much.†His grin came on slow, fully dimpled. “In that case, I’m about to ask a very important question.†He held the champagne bottle up, shaking it slowly from side to side. She flashed her diamond ring at him. “I think we’re doing this all upside down.†“Damn, I’ve botched it up again.†“No, Nick, and you never botched it up the first time round. The fact that this doesn’t come easy to you, that you’d rather take the time to struggle through your emotions than make some rash commitment, means everything to me.†“I love you, darling.†He popped the cork with a loud bang. The fizz sprayed them both as he asked, “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?†“I love you too, Nick.†She shuffled closer, entwining her champagne-soaked body with his from head to toe. “Is that a yes?†he murmured, nuzzling her earlobe with nipping kisses that tingled spicy heat to all the right places. “You come with a satin-pink blow-up mattress,†she said breathlessly. “How could I possibly say no?â€
About the Author
Claire Robyns lives in Berkshire, England, with her husband and twin boys. For so long as she has memories, she was either reading, dreaming about reading, or planning what she’d be reading next. Then one day she started dreaming about writing and that was the beginning of an amazing journey. When Claire isn’t thigh-deep in laundry, shopping, cooking and general crowd control, you’ll find her head-and-heart-deep in the tangled lives of her characters. Claire writes sensual historical romance and lighthearted contemporaries.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9232-5 Copyright © 2011 by Claire Robyns All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries. www.CarinaPress.com
