Читать книгу Wear My Ring: The Secret Wedding Dress / The Millionaire's Marriage Claim - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake - Страница 12

IT TOOK more than fifteen stupid minutes for the stupid lift to open at Paige’s floor on the night of Gabe’s party. Way too much time in which to wonder if she ought to change her dress. Her hair. Her mind.

She felt edgy. Hyper-aware. As if she could feel even the slightest shift of air dancing across her skin. Because after several days of living out the most hot, illicit, exciting affair of her life under cover of darkness in the privacy of Gabe’s moon-drenched loft, the real world was about to impose on their heretofore perfect little bubble of secret sex.

The lift doors began to close and she slipped inside at the last second, squeezing into a gap amongst a group of bright shiny young things, none of whom she’d ever met. Why would she have? She and Gabe knew hardly anything about one another outside the bedroom.

Which was fine. Perfect really. It kept things super casual.

She wished she’d brought up the party once, at least to get a gauge of what she might be about to walk into. Would she and Gabe treat one another as virtual strangers? As friendly neighbours? Or would they simply avoid one another all night?

This, she thought. This was why she liked things to be simple, straightforward, with all the cards on the table from the very beginning. This nervous tumbling in her stomach was awful. And horribly familiar. Surely it was a symptom that something wasn’t right.

As the lift rose the deep whump whump whump of music pulsed in her bones, lifting the energy throbbing deep within her to screaming point. The lift opened, and the sounds of party chatter and, ironically, Billy Idol singing ‘Hot in the City’ spilled into the lift as the inhabitants tumbled out.

Paige took a deep breath, smoothed a hand over her new dress, ran another over her hair, then with chin tilted she walked into Gabe’s penthouse.

As it turned out, Paige knew plenty of people. Mrs Addable and several other inhabitants of the building huddled by the windows checking out the view. She saw a few girls from uni, and even a couple of guys she’d dated. She felt an odd surge of disappointment. She shook it off. She wasn’t special to Gabe and she didn’t want to be.

She nearly managed to convince herself as much when a quick glance around the jam-packed room revealed a massive red and grey rug now covering the lounge-room floor. A large red urn bursting with a tall spray of stripped willow. And chairs and tables in every place they ought to be. A half second after she got over the surprise of Gabe having decorated she realised every item was from that season’s Ménage à Moi catalogue. The bubbles in her stomach went haywire.

Then the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, as though she was being watched. In a party that size someone somewhere would be smouldering at someone, and it was likely she’d been caught in the crossfire. And yet …

Rolling her shoulders to fend off the scratchy sensation, she turned, eyes searching the crowd until they landed on a pair of familiar dark eyes.

Gabe stood on the far side of the large room, his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, a near full moon and a million stars twinkling in the inky black sky his backdrop. He was so deliciously handsome, so unsettling, so much. And his eyes were focused entirely on her. Dark eyes of a man who was near addicted to doughnuts, knew more about Doris Day movies than she did, and who remembered where she worked even though she was sure she hadn’t mentioned it since the day they first met.

She liked that he was leaving. Liked that he was discreet. Liked that every time she saw him he could barely keep his hands off her. But the riot of sensation ripping through her in that moment was so beyond mere like she hadn’t a hope of naming it.

She clutched her silver lamé purse in one hand, and the small box she’d brought with her, so hard they left imprints on her palms.

‘Paige!’ Mae’s voice rang sharp in her ear.

Paige blinked, the noise and energy and light and life of the party rushing in on her as if she’d burst from a tunnel. Then the crowd shifted, and Gabe was gone.

Paige turned to find Mae shoving through the crowd and bundling up to her like a ball of energy, Clint lolloping in her wake.

‘How cool is this?’ asked Mae. ‘And my godfather, this apartment! You must be dying to get stuck into it.’

Paige opened her mouth to tell Mae this was Gabe’s version of decorated, until she remembered that according to Mae this was the first time Paige had been there too. She hadn’t meant to keep the thing with Gabe from Mae, but they’d barely seen one another in the past week, and she’d been so busy at work—And it had been so intense, so unlike anything she’d ever done before, she hadn’t wanted the bubble to burst.

She’d fill Mae in on all the juicy details the first moment they had some girly time together, just the two of them. She glanced across at the ever-present Clint and wondered when that might be.

‘Where is that delicious pirate of yours?’ Mae asked. ‘The guy was clearly into you at The Brasserie last week, and he looks like the kind of guy who doesn’t need a flashlight and a map to find your treasure, if ya know what I mean.’

Paige rolled her eyes even while she knew it to be the absolute truth. Gabe Hamilton had found her treasure no problem at all. In fact, her treasure was so attuned to him she was doing her best to ignore the heavy ache in her treasure just thinking about him.

‘Drinks!’ Mae said and Clint looked as if he was reminded again why he wanted to marry her. Then hand in hand they made a beeline for the bar.

Leaving Paige to pretend every fibre of her being wasn’t paying intense heed to their host, wherever he might be.

Gabe ran a finger beneath the V of his sweater for about the hundredth time since a bunch of strangers had piled into his apartment.

He’d be pushing it to say he knew even a tenth of them, and a half of those he’d met in the lift at one point or another that week. The rest were a blur of hair and teeth that Nate had introduced to him, talking each and every one up as though they were the next big thing. He got it, Nate was trying to make him feel at home. Yet the only thing keeping him from making a hasty exit in search of fresh air, no matter how cold, had been brief glimpses of a familiar head of cool-blonde hair.

He’d known the moment Paige had arrived—some shift in the air, some call of the wild to his hormones had him sniffing the air for her scent. And then she’d appeared through the crowd in a white dress that looked as if she’d been poured into it and revealed enough leg to give a less vital man palpitations.

His gaze found her again, this time talking to some guy. Her hair shifting across her back as she talked. When the guy moved in, placing a hand on her upper arm, waving his big watch in her face, something clenched hot and hard deep inside Gabe. Something primal and not pretty.

‘It’s the legs,’ said a voice cutting into his thoughts.

He turned to find a group of men in sharp suits standing beside him, all cradling half-filled glasses, all looking in Paige’s direction.

‘What’s that?’ asked Gabe.

‘They’re like something out of a forties detective movie,’ said another of the men. ‘I’ve spent more time than I dare admit imagining myself as Sam Spade, walking into a smoke-filled room, sunlight pouring through slatted blinds, to find those legs crossed as she sits waiting on my desk.’

‘Hamilton, right?’ asked the third. ‘We’re friends of Nate’s.’

‘Right,’ said Gabe, brushing off the fact that Nate seemed to have more friends he didn’t know than friends he did. There were more pressing matters. ‘You know Paige?’

At the dark tone of his voice three pairs of male eyes turned his way. Turned, and softened. He could all but hear them thinking, Poor mug, thinks he’s in with a chance.

Never in his life had Gabe felt a stronger urge to kiss and tell. I’ve had her up against a wall, on the kitchen bench, crying out my name so loud the whole damn building must have heard. But he lifted his glass and filled his mouth with Scotch before his foot landed there instead.

‘Dated her one time,’ said the first, ‘before she introduced me to my wife.’

‘Cool move,’ said the second with a laugh.

‘Cool creature,’ said the third.

Gabe’s gaze drew back to Paige. He caught her profile as she smiled and waved at someone across the room. Her smile was calm. Understated. He could see why people might think her cool, he’d thought so himself at one point, but now he understood it was a mask, a mode of self-protection. Something tickled the back of his mind, as if he were trying to catch the disparate threads of a dream.

Familiarity, perhaps. Maybe even a recognition of his own natural reserve.

Or déjà vu.

Another cool blonde of his acquaintance came crashing into his mind, right along with the tightness in his gut as he’d first spied that long ago blonde smiling at him from across the room at BonaVenture’s first big party, and the smile that never quite reached her eyes unless they met his.

‘No,’ he said, out loud, turning heads. Grimacing, he downed the last of his Scotch before slamming the glass onto a passing tray.

This wasn’t the same as that. For one thing he’d been young, and cocky, and ruled by his libido. He was older, wiser now and kept that part of him on a short leash. And yet his subconscious wouldn’t let it lie. This thing with Paige was … intense. And it had ignited exceptionally fast. Who could blame him? The woman was so lush and lovely she kept him half hard half the day and all the way all night.

He ground a thumb and forefinger into his eyes, but the memories continued to knock against the inside of his brain.

He’d met Lydia right as BonaVenture had hit the crest of its first wave of success. The business that had been a mere dream a few years before had gone stratospheric right after his gran had died. And it was as though he’d gone to sleep one night himself, and woken up to find the world as he’d always known it was simply no more.

Lydia had been his port in the storm, and it had never occurred to him that her motivations in being with him might have been anything less than romantic. In the end that error of judgement had all but destroyed everything he and Nate had worked so hard to build.

And here he was, set to make the biggest financial decision of his life, and he’d gone and entangled himself in a blonde distraction once again.

‘Having fun?’ Nate said, slapping Gabe on the back, rocking him back on his heels.

A dark cloud hovering about his ears, Gabe shoved his fingers hard into the front pockets of his jeans. ‘So much so I barely know how to contain myself.’

Nate snorted. ‘Now quickly, I have a thing in Sydney this week. A meet and greet with an upstart encryption software company. Looks schmick. I was going to send Rick, but I’m not sure that he’s as net savvy as—Gabe?’

‘Hmm?’ A sliver of white glinting through the crowd had snagged Gabe’s attention. ‘What now?’

‘I was being about as subtle as a woman in red lipstick. I’m offering you a lifeline, mate. An actual prospective client to sound out while you’re here. Thought you’d jump at the chance to sink your fangs into an actual real live deal.’

Normally he would, but he was in a questioning type of mood, and even while Nate’s face was a picture of innocence, so far everything he’d said or done that night had screamed ulterior motive.

‘Unless you have other plans? More decorating perhaps? Like what you’ve done with the place so far. Very … pretty.’

Gabe cut him a glower. ‘Considering your flair for interior design I take that as a compliment. When’s the flight?’

‘Daybreak tomorrow. And you’re welcome.’

Gabe caught the glint of light on blonde hair move through the swarm and heard himself say, ‘Make it a day later and I’m there.’

He felt Nate’s incredulous stare. Pretended he didn’t.

Nate said, ‘Am I missing something here? I’ve had people manning the lifts at work in case you slipped out and were never heard from again—Ri-i-ight. I see.’ Nate grabbed a tiny pastry from a passing tray and threw it into his mouth. ‘So who’s the blonde?’

Gabe breathed out long and slow. He’d been quietly concerned about the ever-decreasing degrees of separation between Paige and Nate and confirmation that Nate wasn’t a paid-up member of the ‘I Fantasise About Paige’s Legs’ club was more of a relief than he cared to admit. Gabe set his vision at the middle distance, and drawled, ‘Any blonde in particular you need me to soften up for you?’

Nate grabbed him by the ears and turned his head the half-inch to face the blonde in question. ‘The one who has you dancing about like you have ants in your pants. The one making you think twice about getting out of bed early tomorrow.’

Gabe swiped his hands away. ‘For starters, I don’t dance. And secondly she lives in the building and …’ She what? Wasn’t the reason why he was actually considering shucking off work? The dark cloud surrounded his whole head. ‘She all but shut the lift doors on my fingers when we first met.’

‘That’s it? Well, then you won’t mind if I head that way and—’

Gabe’s hand shot out and grabbed Nate by the back of the neck.

Nate laughed as he ducked out of Gabe’s grip. ‘Been so long since I’ve seen you even look twice at a blonde, it’s bloody reassuring. Like you’re really back. Not just here, but back. Now, seems I have to go tell poor Rick he has an early start in the morning.’

With that, Nate headed off, leaving Gabe silenced. And shrouded in more grey clouds than ever. Of all times for Nate to slant a reference at Lydia … He’d dated blondes since her, surely? Lydia hadn’t screwed him over that much.

Sure she’d sold their pillow talk with the competition, leading to an investigation by the Australian Securities Commission for insider trading, which had meant the near undoing of the business into which he and Nate had poured their hearts and souls, the repercussions of which had sent him careening off to all four corners of the globe in an effort to wrench BonaVenture from the grips of obliteration—

But it wasn’t as if it affected him any more. Unless you counted the fact that he was more vigilant when it came to his business dealings. Perhaps even a little zealously so. But his dating habits were peachy. Or at least they would be once all the monkeys finally left his apartment.

All bar one.

Paige sensed Gabe a good second before his deep dark voice said, ‘Miss Danforth, how good of you to come.’

She took a quick heartening gulp from her champagne, then turned and said, ‘Why, of course.’ At least she planned to. But nothing came out.

In leather and a three-day growth Gabe Hamilton looked like a sexy pirate. In pyjama bottoms and nothing else he was every woman’s fantasy. In a cool pin-striped jacket, navy cashmere sweater, and dark jeans he looked so delectably tactile he was more dangerous than ever.

When he leant to place a soft warm kiss on her cheek she had a fair idea of what oxygen deprivation must feel like—all breathless and weak and woozy, with a touch of delirium thrown in.

‘For you,’ she said, shoving the small box between them. ‘Housewarming present.’

He took the package, his brow furrowing as he stared at it. And suddenly she felt silly for bringing anything at all.

She flapped her hand at him. ‘On second thoughts, give it back. It so won’t go with your gorgeous new decor.’

Pulling the gift out of her reach, he glanced up under his thick dark lashes. ‘You noticed.’

‘I’d be pretty sucky at my job if I didn’t. It looks great. You did good.’

He cocked his head in thanks. Then brought her gift to his ear and gave it a little shake. ‘So long as it’s not a throw cushion I’m sure it’ll do fine.’

All she could do was shrug, while she felt more and more sure that what was meant to be a funny little trinket was too ridiculous, too overfamiliar, too obvious he’d made an impact on her. But then she thought of the big changes he’d made to his apartment, because of her, and didn’t quite know what to think any more.

He opened the box, a wash of surprise, bewilderment, and laughter playing over his beautiful face as he stared at the hot-pink flamingo in his big dark hands.

‘For your phone,’ she explained, sliding her hand to the inside pocket of his jacket, knowing that was where his ever-present phone would be. She drew it out and placed it neatly into place in the crook of the bird’s bent leg. Tilting her head for him to follow, she slipped through a gap in the crowd to put the phone holder on the kitchen bench.

She turned and, with a ta-da move, said, ‘To keep the doughnut crumbs away.’

Gabe blinked at the kitsch splash of pink adorning his sleek dark kitchen, then back to her. His silky dark eyes looking right into her. She knew how Lois Lane felt knowing Superman’s X-ray vision meant he could tell what colour undies she wore. She felt the same desire to hide behind something big and solid for protection.

Waving her hand in front of her dramatically pinking face, she said, ‘It’s a silly little—’

‘It’s perfect,’ he said, placing a hand over his heart. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ And it was. He was. Her complete and utter pleasure. A pleasure she’d actually thought might fizzle in the glaring light of a public outing.

The crowd jostled and she bumped against him. He gathered her with a strong arm until she was flush against his big strong front, the heat of him bleeding through her barely there dress. Again she wondered how she’d gone so long without a man in her life. Without the mouth-watering ache inside her. How? Because it had never felt like this before.

‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ Gabe’s voice rumbled through her.

Paige laughed. ‘But the party’s just started.’

‘Really? Feels like it’s been going on for days.’

When it began to dawn on her he might not be kidding, she glanced over his shoulder at the party going great guns behind him. ‘But don’t you need to—?’

‘Not so much.’

Her eyes swung back to his to find them drenched with desire. For her. The hot ache sank and spread until she would have collapsed in a quivering puddle of pure need had Gabe not been holding her.

When the urge to grab his hand and run, dispatching a coat-hanger tackle on anyone in her path, swelled hot and fast inside her, Paige knew then that she’d gone past the point of curing her dating-drought.

She’d cracked.

Relinquishing a degree of control had seemed a worthy price to pay to find her feet again. But the raging desire to give in and do whatever Gabe asked of her was so strong it scared her. It felt like a heck of a short trip from that to becoming her mother, watching the clock, marking off the calendar, blushing hopefully every time the phone rang. And living a life of perpetual disappointment.

She locked her knees and pressed her hands into his chest, steadfastly ignoring the urge to curl her fingernails against the hard planes. ‘Gabe, you have to stay.’

He slowly shook his head. ‘I have to have you.’

Good God. Paige licked her lips, preparing to explain why he’d have to wait but there were simply no words. She bit her bottom lip to stop from whimpering. His dark gaze honed in on the movement, a muscle jumping in his cheek. The hastening of his heartbeat beneath her palms was her undoing.

‘Okay. Let’s go,’ she said.

Apparently that was all Gabe needed. He grabbed her hand and drew her through the crowd, parting it like a hot knife through butter.

‘Gabe!’ a voice broke into her buzzing sub-conscious.

Fully expecting Gabe to accelerate into a sprint, Paige was so surprised when he actually stopped she banged into his back, and had to grip his arm in order to steady herself. He wrapped his arm around her in order to steady her, so she was all wrapped up in him when she found herself the subject of some shrewd attention from a man she’d never met.

‘Now what?’ Gabe said, his impatience clear as day.

The party guest, handsome in a clean-cut jock kind of way, smiled patiently at Gabe, and then at her.

Gabe sighed, then said, ‘Nate Mackenzie, Paige Danforth.’

Nate grinned as he held out a hand. ‘The infamous lift monopolist. Pleasure.’

Paige laughed in surprise. Then glanced at Gabe to find him quietly fuming at his friend. A friend he’d talked to about her. While she’d never said a word to Mae. Mae who was somewhere at the party, clueless she was about to do a bunk. Her stomach clutched more than a little.

‘One last thing before you depart,’ Nate said to Gabe. ‘The men in grey by the window. Go say “hi”.’

Gabe growled so low Paige winced. ‘Another time.’

Paige felt Nate’s attention focus on her even as he held Gabe’s dark gaze with his deceptively smiling eyes. ‘This is the only time. We need them. For the … deal.’

Gabe’s grip tightened on hers and she prepared to make a dash for the door. But when her eye slid to his it was to see a muscle clenching in his cheek.

To her he’d always seemed basically untouchable. As if nothing could topple him. In that moment he looked like a fish on a hook. A fish who could have thrown the hook with little more than a jerk of his great head if he’d decided to do so. But a fish who was currently chewing on the hook instead, gritting it between his teeth, before he squared his shoulders, apologised to her for a momentary change of plans, and took off.

‘Sorry,’ Nate said, clearly meaning it. ‘Business, you know.’

‘That’s fine,’ she said, even though she hadn’t a clue. She barely knew what Gabe did for a living. It involved travel, a phone that might as well be permanently attached to his hand, and … men in suits, apparently.

‘I’m his partner at BonaVenture,’ Nate said. ‘And by the look in your eyes he’s never mentioned me to you.’

‘Sorry.’

They’d never talked that much about her work either. Which added to growing worry gnawing at her innards, because her work was pretty much the most significant thing in her life. Only the past week that distinction had been usurped by the man standing stiff-backed amongst a group of men who were grinning and fawning, shaking his hand as if he were some kind of rock star.

‘If only he wasn’t one of a kind.’

‘Hmm?’

Nate ran a hard hand up the back of his neck, eyes zeroed in on the conversation on the other side of the room. ‘Gabe. He’s brilliant, you know.’

She didn’t know that either, actually. Oh, she knew the man had skills, but she was fairly sure she and Nate were thinking of quite different ones.

‘I have a good line in spin,’ Nate continued, ‘but Gabe? He’s a superstar. He can smell potential from a continent away. He can seduce even the most timid ideas men to let him in. Nobody else out there like him. My life would be a hell of a lot simpler if there were.’

Nate’s astute gaze slewed from Gabe and back to her, his mouth lifting into a smile so self-confident it completely belied his previous words. She could see in that look why the two men got along. They were both forces of nature. And even while she had no idea what was going on behind Nate’s clever hazel eyes it gave her goose bumps.

Then Nate said, ‘If you have any kind of influence over him—’

She held up her hands and waved them frantically enough to stop Nate in his tracks. ‘I don’t. Honestly. We’re … friends.’

For a perfectly nice term, ‘friends’ sounded such a lame description for what they were, and Nate’s raised eyebrows told her he wasn’t buying it either.

But he backed down. ‘Apologies. Clearly I’m getting desperate.’

‘For?’

‘Him to stay, of course.’

The worries that had been little fissures splintered to form the Grand Canyon. ‘He’s considering sticking around?’

‘You tell me.’

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Like a good many things, they hadn’t talked about when he was leaving as an actual couple would, because they weren’t an actual couple. They were … flinging. And to protect herself from any damage the act of flinging might incur, she’d done a lot of assuming. And you knew what they said about assuming?

She needed him to go. The only reason she was taking chances where she’d never taken them before was because it had an end date.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, Gabe looked back across the room. As their eyes connected she could practically see the energy arcing between them.

Gabe shook his head once, promising he wouldn’t be long. Or was he saying, Don’t get any ideas, now. Don’t make the mistake of falling for me? On any other man the warning would be conceited. Gabe ought to have had it tattooed on his bicep at birth.

It seemed she’d been right to try to protect herself from fling damage. Only problem was, it hadn’t worked.