Читать книгу The Housekeeper's Daughter - Christine Flynn, Christine Flynn, Mary J. Forbes - Страница 11

A ddie’s hand slipped from the tray as she watched Gabe cross toward her. She had never seen him in a tuxedo before. Not in person, anyway. She’d seen photos of him in one in Newsweek and in the newspaper, all taken at charity or political fund-raisers. She especially recalled a picture of him at an embassy reception in Washington. At the time, she remembered thinking of how sophisticated and worldly he truly must be to move in such circles.

She had often wondered since then if he simply suffered formality as part of his heritage and his job, because she saw him only at his most casual. As he stopped in front of her now, she could see for herself that he wore refinement as comfortably as he did his old college sweats. The beautifully cut black tux just made him seem a lot more imposing.

Confused by his presence, she blinked at what he held. His big body blocked her view of everything but the studs in his blinding white shirt, the blatantly sensual fullness of his mouth and the guardedness in his quicksilver eyes when he held out one of the crystal flutes of bubbling wine.

“Please,” he said, when she hesitated to take what he offered. Behind him, soft strains of music and the steady drone of a hundred conversations drifted inside. “I want to apologize, Addie. I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning.”

He raised the glass a little higher.

Not wanting to be rude, she cautiously took it. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” she murmured, her glance on the bubbles rising in the delicate glass. She felt terribly awkward standing there in her plain shirt and jeans, even if they were what she considered good clothes. When they were outside talking while she worked, the lines of social demarcation didn’t seem so distinct. Here, with him radiating sophistication and surrounded by the trappings of his family’s wealth, she felt as if she should shrink into the walls.

“I do need to,” he insisted, his deep voice thoughtful. “I was out of line. My only excuse is that you caught me off guard.

“I’ve known you forever,” he reminded her. “Between that and the promise I made your dad, I guess I was just feeling a little…protective.”

“You have a gift for understatement,” she said quietly, trying to ignore the odd tug at her heart.

“Okay. Make that a lot protective,” he allowed, since he had gone a little overbearing on her. “And I really am sorry.”

Looking as thoughtful as he sounded, he slowly turned the stem of his glass in his blunt-tipped fingers. “You reminded me this morning that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I’m quite aware that you’re a grown woman,” he assured her, repeating what she’d so calmly pointed out. “Since you hardly need looking after, I guess all that leaves me to do is hope that this Scott does right by you…and to toast the bride-to-be.”

He lifted his glass, offered an apologetic smile.

“Your father wanted only the best for you, Addie. He never wanted you to have to worry or want or have to settle for anything less than what would make you happy.” His broad shoulders lifted in a conceding shrug. “That’s all I want for you, too.”

Addie’s fingers tightened on her own stem as he tapped the rim of his flute to hers. Crystal rang, the sound of celebration vibrating in the sudden quiet hanging between them.

The cheerful note seemed terribly out of place. Her father’s wishes for her, Gabe’s wishes, twisted hard at her heart.

He never wanted you to settle for anything less than what would make you happy.

…anything less…

The ringing died, but the words continued to echo in her head. Gabe was doing exactly what she had thought he would have done when he’d first heard her news, wishing her luck, congratulating her, wanting the best for her. She should have felt relieved that everything had gone back to normal. Yet nothing felt normal at all.

She could again feel the unfamiliar tension in him. It snaked toward her, knotting the nerves in her stomach, tugging her toward him and making her aware of him in ways she had no business considering at all.

Afraid he would see her trembling if she raised her glass, she set it on the desk and focused on one of the bubbles clinging stubbornly to the inside of the crystal. While others raced past it to burst on top, it held its own, determined to hold its ground.

Or, maybe, just afraid to break free.

She found it truly pathetic that she could relate so easily to a bubble. There were things she wanted, but there was so much more she was afraid to even consider because the dreams were so far beyond her reach. Her mother was right. Setting one’s sights too high only led to disappointment. Clinging to what she had seemed so much safer.

Gabe’s glass joined hers. “You’re still upset with me.”

“No. I…no,” she repeated.

“Then, what is it?”

She shook her head, her focus on the neat pleats in his cummerbund.

“Addie,” he said, and slipped his fingers under her chin. “Talk to me.”

Her heart jerked wildly as he tipped her face toward his.

“I’m not really sure what to say.”

“Just say you forgive me.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and smiled because he did.

“I’m going to miss you,” he admitted, that smile finally making its way into his eyes. “It’s not going to be the same here without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“Yeah, but you will. And I can’t imagine that your husband would appreciate me showing up on your doorstep just because I need to vent or get advice or have you tell me my ego is getting in the way of my job.”

She wanted to tell him he could come to her anytime, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. The subtle, sensual brush of his thumb over her cheek froze the words in her throat.

That touch, gentle and innocent as it was, seemed to be toying with a mental lock she’d long ago secured into place.

As a girl, she had fantasized about being in his arms. As a woman, she had long ago accepted that he was light-years out of her league and felt incredibly lucky just to have his friendship. Now, breathing in the arousing combination of aftershave and warm male, the heat of his hand seeping into her skin, she could barely think at all.

He brushed her cheek once more, the smile in his eyes slowly fading. In those smoke-gray depths, she saw what looked very much like a struggle as his glance followed the slow, mesmerizing motion of his thumb. It was almost as if he were considering the feel of her skin, savoring it, committing it to memory—and wondering the whole time if he should be touching her at all.

“Be happy, Addie,” he murmured, and leaned to touch his lips to her cheek.

Gabe had felt her go still at his touch. Now he could swear she wasn’t even breathing. Beneath his lips her skin felt like satin. Her scent, something fresh, light and amazingly provocative, filled his lungs. She felt impossibly soft, smelled incredible and when he drew back far enough to see the corner of her lush, unadorned mouth, his heart seemed to be beating a little faster than it had just a moment ago.

He hadn’t counted on that. Or on the way her stillness invited him to stay right where he was. He was close enough to feel her breath tremble out against his cheek, close enough to see her lips part as she slowly drew in more air.

Drawn by her softness, he slipped his fingers from her chin, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. The feathery crescents of her lashes drifted down. The delicate cords of her neck convulsed as she swallowed.

She wanted his touch.

Something inside him tightened at the thought, snaring him, pulling him back down when he should have been pulling away. He touched his mouth to hers, a soft brush of contact that made his heart bump against his ribs.

He did it again, and felt her pulse race where his fingers rested against the silken skin of her neck. Sliding one arm around her, he eased her forward until her body touched his.

“Kiss me back,” he whispered, and felt something molten and liquid pour through his veins when she sighed—and did.

Gabe hadn’t quite known what he would do when he’d climbed the stairs to the balcony and entered the room. It wasn’t like him to start anything without a game plan. He was the guy who never went into any meeting without a plan and backup and maybe a couple more contingencies for good measure. He liked to have all of his bases covered and to know as much about the other side as his own so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

He definitely hadn’t been prepared this time.

When he’d walked in, all he’d known for certain was that nothing had felt the same since he’d learned of her engagement, that he was sorry he’d acted like a jerk and that he couldn’t leave in the morning without telling her he wished her well. They had known each other too long to let his knee-jerk reaction cloud their relationship.

He also knew that he had not planned on kissing her.

He most definitely hadn’t planned on the impact of having her small, supple body in his arms.

She tasted like warm honey and felt like pure heaven. Slipping his hand up her side, he curved it just beneath the gentle fullness of her breasts. He wanted to feel more of her. All of her. He pulled her closer, lifted her higher against him, drank more deeply. Their breaths joined, her flavor mingled with his.

He edged his hand up, cupped the side of her small breast. She would fit his palm perfectly. He was sure of it. And would have caved in to the temptation to find out for sure if he hadn’t just felt her stiffen.

The sudden stillness in her body had him going still himself. She was no more prepared for the slow meltdown of their senses than he had been. He was as certain of that as he was of the clawing heat low in his belly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and felt such immediate need. More important at the moment, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and promptly kissed good sense goodbye.

With a ragged breath he slowly lifted his head.

Addie’s grip tightened on his biceps, her fingers clutching the finely woven fabric of his jacket as she slowly lowered her head. She couldn’t let go of him. Not yet. He had taken the strength from her legs. Or maybe, she thought, she had simply given it to him. There had been no demand. No insistence. Just a slow, sweet heat that had filled her, consumed her and left her burning everywhere he’d touched.

Her breathing was no steadier than his when she finally eased away, willing her knees to support her when her fingers slipped from his arms. Clasping her hands over her fluttering stomach, she felt the little diamond bite into her palm.

Gabe caught the flash of the stone the instant before it disappeared.

Guilt promptly slammed into desire. “I’m sorry,” he said for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. “That was a mistake.”

He shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have let her go with the safe, chaste little buzz on the cheek he’d started with and left well enough alone. He had managed to explain his behavior before. He had no idea how to do it now.

Hating how distressed she looked, he reached toward her, only to drop his hand in case she pulled away. “Are you all right?”

“You should go,” she said, her voice a thready whisper. “People will be wondering where you are.”

“You haven’t answered me.”

“I’m…I don’t know what I am,” she confessed, clearly rattled. “You really need to leave, Gabe. You’re supposed to give a toast.”

“The toast can wait.”

“No, it can’t. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Gabe couldn’t argue that. Duty called, and heaven knew he always met his obligations. With her so clearly closing herself off to him, it wasn’t as if staying would help, anyway. He had no idea what to do for damage control.

He took a step back, torn by the embarrassment and confusion so evident in her lovely eyes. Torn by the knowledge that he was the cause of her anxiety.

It wasn’t like him not to know what to do in a situation. It wasn’t like him to not know what to say. Not knowing if he should apologize again or simply say good-night, he finally decided she wanted nothing from him but his silence and said nothing before he turned and headed for the open doors.

Addie could hear his footsteps on the balcony, listened to them fade down the steps. She was shaken to the core by his kiss, the heat in it, the quiet hunger, and stunned by how shamelessly she’d melted in his arms.

Only when she could no longer hear anything but music did she release the breath she’d held and sink against the side of the desk. As she did, she turned, pushing her trembling fingers through her hair—and saw her mother in the doorway on the other side of the room.

The knot in her stomach turned to lead.

Addie had no idea how long her mom had been standing there, or just what all she’d seen. She’d obviously seen enough, though, to put the unfamiliar spots of color on her cheeks and to make her look as if she just caught her daughter kissing the devil himself.

Rose hurried in, her hands knotted, her voice a frantic whisper. “What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind?”

Unable to explain what had happened to herself, much less to anyone else, Addie added the untouched flutes of champagne to the tray, carefully because she was still shaking, and headed across the room to close the doors she wished now she’d never opened.

“Addie, answer me. What is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I’m finished in here,” she replied, her eyes on her tasks as she picked up the basket of cleaning supplies on her way back to get the tray. “What else do you need me to do?”

Her mom retrieved the tray herself. “I need for you to stay away from him,” she insisted, her sensible shoes soundless on the carpet runner. Worry threaded the hushed tones of her voice. “He’s only going to cause you trouble. He’s wrong to pursue you. You’re an engaged woman.”

“He’s not pursuing me.”

“How long has this been going on?” she demanded, clearly not hearing.

“There isn’t—”

“I know what I saw,” came the truly distressed reply. “I couldn’t hear you, but there’s not a thing wrong with my vision. Oh, Addie,” she continued, her voice falling even as her anxiety rose. “I’ve always been afraid you cared too much for him. You don’t think I can see how you feel about him, but you’ve always allowed him far more influence over you than is wise. It was one thing to have a crush on him when you were a girl, but you have to forget about that man. You’re going to mess up your entire life if you think you have any sort of future with him.”

Gabe was the first to leave the next morning. He’d said his goodbyes at the party that lasted long past when he’d turned in at midnight, and slipped out at the crack of dawn while there was no danger of running into anyone who might delay his escape.

Mornings were usually his favorite time of day. He especially liked it when the sun was just coming up and the whole day stretched untouched before him. It was a time of possibilities, a clean slate, another beginning. This morning, though, as he tossed his black leather suit bag into the back seat of his black Mercedes, climbed behind the wheel and headed down the long drive to where the automatic gate swung wide to let him back into the real world, it wasn’t beginnings he was thinking about.

It was change.

Apparently he didn’t adapt to it very well.

Addie’s dad had once told him that how a man dealt with change was often the truest test of his character. Until yesterday Gabe had figured he dealt fine with it. At least he did when he instigated it himself. With something beyond his control, it was clear he’d pretty much flunked the test.

He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her like that.

He couldn’t believe how she’d responded to him, either. He’d tasted surrender in her, astonishingly immediate, and a hint of passion held ruthlessly in check. The surrender had nearly made him groan with need. The thought of removing the reins from that bridled passion had made for a decidedly restless night’s sleep.

His hands tightened on the wheel.

Addie had never been so completely on his mind as she had in the past thirty hours. And never had she been on his mind the way she had last night. More often than not when he thought of her, it would be to remember her view on some issue he needed to address—and her fervor or sympathy when she expressed it. As restrained as she seemed when others were around, he usually had no problem getting her to tell him exactly how she felt. All he had to do was ask her what she thought her father would think, and she would be the voice of reason.

During his last campaign, when his advisors had wanted to cancel appearances because he was so far ahead in the polls, she had made him see that by not staying out there and encountering more of his constituents, he would miss the opportunity to meet voters who might have needs he didn’t yet know about. And his purpose as a senator, after all, was to serve.

When he’d been going nuts with the thought of having to move his office because a youth center had gone into the building behind him and the noise through the walls was deafening, she suggested he donate soundproofing and double-pane windows.

He’d saved a fortune in time by not having to move. He’d also earned the undying gratitude of the youth facility’s director over the unexpected savings on the center’s fuel bills.

She knew her mind, knew what she felt was right, wrong or of no consequence.

For everyone but herself, anyway. He didn’t know why she did it, but she tended to downplay her own talents and abilities. It was as if she didn’t even realize she had them. The only dream he’d ever known her to cling to was college. And there, he had the feeling she was doing that as much for the memory of her father as she was herself. Tom had wanted it for her. Therefore, she would see that it was done.

As for anything else she might have wanted, she seemed to settle for whatever appeared the most reasonable, or caused the least disruption for everyone else. Sometimes he thought the trait quite generous. Mostly it annoyed him that she shortchanged herself so much.

Not that he had any business being annoyed, he reminded himself. She’d apparently had dreams he’d known nothing about and was well on her way to fulfilling them.

He just hoped she wasn’t shortchanging herself there, too.

Not liking the thought that she might well be, he turned on the radio, tuned to the morning news.

The thought of her no longer being around when he went home bothered him more than he would have thought possible.

The thought of how she’d felt in his arms bothered him even more.

He turned the radio up, telling himself to let it go. That bit of spontaneous combustion meant nothing. She had her life. He had his. And his did not allow for a relationship with his family’s engaged groundskeeper.

He needed to find some way, though, to make sure she knew he really did want only what would make her happy.

Addie felt good. Great, actually, as she hung her serviceable brown canvas jacket on a peg inside the back door of her little house and toed off her muddy rubber boots. The gladiola corms she planted every spring had to be dug up again every fall so they wouldn’t freeze over winter. She now had all eight hundred and six of them spread out on screens and would tuck them away in peat moss as soon as they were dry. She’d also separated and replanted the crowded lily of the valley crowns along the far perimeter of the property.

It had been a week since the wedding, but she was working as hard as ever.

Being her mother’s daughter, she checked those tasks off the long list she’d left on the maple kitchen table and headed for the narrow white refrigerator by the stove.

The cottage consisted of only four rooms—a little L of a kitchen that occupied the back part of the cozy living area with its stone fireplace and slip-covered furniture, two tiny bedrooms and an even tinier bath. Her mom had never been much for color. What wasn’t serviceable beige or brown was either pale mauve, pale rose or paler pink. Addie preferred brighter colors herself, though the only place she indulged that uncharacteristic bit of boldness was in her own room. There she’d hung yellow curtains on her window, pictures of sunflowers and lavender fields on her walls and covered her bed in bright Bristol blue.

She’d had plans to build a canopy over her bed, too. But there’d never been time.

The thought reminded her of her list—and that she needed to ask her assistants, Miguel and Jackson, if they could spare an additional day a week for her next month. The two part-time gardeners worked for other families, too, and their time would be at a premium, but she would need their help with the heavier pruning.

Although she could handle the hedges herself and had no problem keeping the bridle paths cleared and all the potted plants and borders free of anything dead or dying, an old oak by the stables needed a large limb removed before the coming winter’s ice cracked it off for her. The red maples that formed a canopy on a section of the lake path needed to be pruned back, and with the autumn leaves starting to fall, there was no way she could keep the lawns cleared alone.

Her empty stomach took precedence over the list at the moment, however. Unfortunately, the fridge was nearly empty. Her mom usually ate at the main house with Olivia, and Addie rarely bothered to cook for herself. She didn’t mind eating alone, but she couldn’t see much point in messing up the kitchen for one person when the local grocery store stocked perfectly edible entrees in its freezer section.

The cottage freezer bore two Lean Cuisine dinners. Selecting one, reminding herself as she did that she needed to add shopping to her list, she popped it into the microwave, grabbed a handful of Oreo cookies for an appetizer and debated whether to take a shower before she ate or wait until after. Scott had a game tonight. There wouldn’t be time to meet him before it started, but they would go for coffee afterward. Decaf for her, espresso for him. She had no idea how he managed to sleep with all that caffeine in his system, but he wasn’t the only person she knew who seemed unaffected by what would have had her clinging to the ceiling all night. Gabe drank coffee as if it were water, too.

The thought caught her unscrewing a cookie.

Screwing it back, she set it beside the others on the counter. She had to stop thinking about him. There hadn’t been a day go by in the week since the wedding that she hadn’t found him creeping into her thoughts. She had thought of him often before. Frequently, in fact. But never the way she’d been thinking of him lately.