Читать книгу New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred - Kathleen O'Reilly, Kathleen O'Reilly - Страница 13
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ОглавлениеGABE DIDN’T COME HOME on Saturday night and Tessa pretended not to notice. What did she expect? Instead she studied the real estate book and plucked her eyebrows for the first time in her life. And because she didn’t want to face him when he did walk in the door, she changed for work and opted to spend Sunday afternoon in the park before heading to Prime.
Gabe wasn’t scheduled to work that night, and Tessa was almost relieved.
Almost.
The truth was, she loved working with Gabe. Daniel was nice, but he didn’t talk much. Sean was okay, but he didn’t let anybody get too close. And Gabe was…well, Gabe was Gabe.
When she tossed a bottle his way, he caught it. When she juggled three lemons, he juggled four. When he started a joke, she knew the punch line.
God, she missed that.
When she got in, the Thursday afternoon irregulars were sitting at the bar.
“About time you showed up, missy. My glass has been empty for a full—” Charlie checked his old windup watch “—eight seconds.”
“Why are you here on Sunday?”
“Lindy told me the yellow-sundress lady came here last Sunday. I want to find her. Wore my best tie.”
Tessa smiled with relief. She’d rather be spending time worrying about Charlie’s love life than Gabe’s. “You’re looking spiffy, Charlie. I don’t think that any woman could resist you with those—” Tessa took a good look “—dollar signs and Playboy logos running down your chest.”
Charlie shrugged what had once been extrawide shoulders. “When you’re my age, you don’t need a tie for much.”
Lloyd sniffed. “A man should always have appropriate attire.”
Tessa slapped her rag in his general direction. “Charlie’s a free spirit.”
EC nudged Charlie in the ribs. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
Sure enough, walking through the door were two young ladies—way too young for Charlie. But his eyes lit up. “That’s her, but where’s her grandmother?”
For a good ten minutes the men sat debating the wisdom of whether Charlie should talk to the granddaughter or not, and finally Tessa got miffed at all of them. No balls. Not a one.
Taking matters in hand, she approached the table where the two girls were sitting. “Can I get you something?” she asked, placing two bar napkins in front of them.
“Margarita on the rocks, no salt,” said the first one.
“Appletini,” said the second, and Tessa recognized her as the girl who wore the yellow sundress, although today she was in navy shorts and a classy tank top. “You’ve been in here before, right?”
“Yeah, I work down the street.”
“Weren’t you here with an older woman?” Tessa looked at the other girl. “No offense, of course, but I knew you were way too young.”
“That’s my great-aunt. She’s visiting from Kansas and she swore that she remembered being in this place a long time ago, but they called it something else. She made us stop that day.”
Tessa nodded, adopting her friendly tour-guide face. “That’s possible. Prime was O’Sullivan’s a lot of years ago. In fact, it was a speakeasy back during Prohibition. Your aunt has got a great memory. What’s her name?”
“Irene Langford. I’m Kristine Langford.”
Tessa leaned in low. “Listen, you see the group of old guys at the bar?” Kristine nodded. “One of them swears he knows your great-aunt. Maybe you could bring her in here sometime this week?”
“Really?” Kristine looked at the matched set of gray heads that were all turned in her direction. “That’s so sweet. But she’s not here anymore. She went back home.”
Tessa tried to look perky for Charlie, but inside she felt something tear. When you got to be Charlie’s age, opportunities were few and far between. “You expect her to visit again?”
“Doubt it. She’s terrified of flying. The doctor had to slip her a Valium to get her on the plane in the first place. But can I tell her his name?”
Tessa thought for a minute, looked at Charlie’s eager eyes, and nodded. “Charlie. Charlie Atwood.”
“Charlie?”
“Uh-huh, the one in the tie—but don’t hold it against him. I’ll buy him another one,” promised Tessa. “Let me get your drinks.”
Tessa went back behind the bar and was immediately bombarded with eighty million questions.
“What’s the woman’s name?”
“Irene Langford.”
“Langford? That doesn’t sound right.”
“Charlie, it’s been a long time. I bet she’s not who you think she is.”
He frowned. “That’s the problem. I can’t remember who I think she is. I only remember the face. And there was a song.”
“She’s in Kansas now.”
Charlie still didn’t get it. “She’ll be coming back?”
Tessa shook her head, hating to let the old guy down. He deserved better. “I don’t think so.”
Charlie stared into his mug until Lloyd tapped his glass to Charlie’s. “To lost loves, lost nights and lost chances. But may you never lose your beer.”
ON SUNDAY NIGHT GABE took out Marisa, just as Tessa wanted. He took her to 11 Madison for dinner and then some play that he didn’t really understand, but she’d been all fired up to go, and, fine, Gabe wasn’t up to disagreeing.
Marisa was nice enough, pretty enough, but man, the woman knew exactly what she wanted. When it came time to kiss her good-night or—God help him—something more serious, Gabe found himself dreading the whole ordeal.
This was one of the main reasons that he didn’t date. Trying to understand what women expected, what they didn’t expect, what they were saying, what they weren’t saying. Did they expect to have sex on the first date? Would they think he was a creep if he wanted to have sex with them after one date? These were questions that could boggle and confuse a man’s mind.
Still, he was going to do this. He was going to do this. Marisa looked up at him, smiled coyly, and he laid into her mouth.
Immediately she pulled back. “Okay, that was not good.”
Under other circumstances, Gabe would have been insulted, but he liked Marisa’s uncomfortable face because it proved that he’d been right and Tessa was wrong. And next time he saw her he was going to tell her that she shouldn’t be fixing him up with other women—even if they were nice.
“Sorry,” he said, noticing her confused expression. “My mind’s elsewhere.”
“Mine, too,” she admitted. “You want to come up?” she asked.
“I should go home,” he said, trying to figure out if “come up” was code for sex or not. And after that kiss there was no freaking way he was going near her for sex.
“I don’t mean to come up,” she said, adding suggestive emphasis. “I just thought you might want to talk for a few minutes.”
Gabe checked his watch. It was too early to show up at the apartment with his pride still intact. A man didn’t take getting dumped lightly, and who knew what Tessa’s reasons were, but the fact was Tessa had dumped him.
Gabe nodded because a man needed his pride. “Sure.”
They killed two hours discussing movies and arguing about whether chick flicks were a good thing or a bad thing. Marisa liked the Hamptons. Gabe liked the Jersey shore. Both agreed that subway fares were crazy expensive and the smoking ban in bars turned out to be all right after all.
They passed the time without incident when Gabe’s cell rang, and he looked down to see his brother’s cell number. He clicked the button. “Daniel?”
“Hello? Who’s this?” asked a voice that wasn’t Daniel’s.
“This is Gabe. Who is this?” Gabe asked.
“This is Vincent, the bartender at Champs. Listen, I think your brother needs some help getting home. I tried to call a cab for him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I’m not sure he knows where he’s going.”
“Daniel?” asked Gabe and then checked his watch. May twenty-fifth.
Damn.
While he’d been busy walking that tightwire that was Tessa, he’d forgotten about Daniel and Michelle’s anniversary.
“Where’s he at?” Gabe asked.
“We’re in Westchester.”
“Westchester? How’d he get up there?”
“Beats me. But he’s been knocking back double scotches for the last three hours.”
“He’s alone?”
“Deep in his cups.”
“I’m on my way.”
Gabe hung up and looked at Marisa. “Sorry. I’ve got a brother to rescue.”
“He’s in Westchester?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty smashed.”
“You need a ride?” she asked, and he gave her high marks for seeing the problem right off.
“You have a car?”
“Of course,” Marisa answered as if it was completely normal to keep a car in the city.
True, he didn’t want to have sex with her, but she was thoughtful and capable. Tessa had good taste in friends. “Are you sure you don’t mind? This won’t be pretty.”
“That’s all right, I don’t mind.”
And they ended up on the FDR, cruising out onto the Deegan, until she wheeled onto the exit for Scarsdale.
Marisa had a sweet little convertible and a heavy accelerator foot, but Gabe was happy for the rush. Daniel didn’t do this often, but when he did, Gabe was always there to bail him out.
The sports bar was on the main street in Scarsdale, a place with six TVs, flashing neon beer signs and bartenders dressed in striped referee uniforms that no man in his right mind would ever wear in a drinking establishment.
Hunched over said bar, blindingly drunk, was the O’Sullivan brother formerly known as “the sensible one.”
Gabe rushed forward. “Daniel?”
The bartender looked up in relief. “It was either you or the cops.”
“Does he come in here often?” asked Gabe.
“Never seen him before, but I’ve only been working here for a few weeks.”
Gabe paid the tab and gave the bartender a substantial tip. “Sorry.”
“He’s your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Kept talking about some woman.”
“Michelle?”
“No, he kept talking about Anastasia.”
Anastasia? Gabe shook his head, deciding the bartender was confused. “Doesn’t matter.”
He looked over at Marisa, who was watching the scene with interest. “You sure you want to do this?”
“It’s the most excitement I’ve had since a famous Grammy winner walked into the office, and I got to show him a SoHo loft that would have paid my rent for a year.”
With a quick smile, she took a shoulder, Gabe took the other one, and they carried Daniel toward the door.
“He doesn’t usually do this,” Gabe said, needing to defend Daniel.
“I’m not one to judge.”
“He lost his wife on 9/11,” he told her, not wanting to say too much, but he didn’t want Marisa thinking his brother was a lush, but Daniel kept things bottled inside, and when they came out, it was never pretty—and usually incoherent.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are we headed?”
“He’s got a place down in Battery Park.” He searched Daniel’s pocket for keys and found them—thank God—because he wasn’t up to explaining this to Tessa. Trying to explain it to the absolute stranger that was Marisa was bad enough.
It took some work, but they got him in the backseat, and Gabe climbed in next to him.
“He’s kind of sad.”
“Not sad,” muttered Daniel.
The car shot forward, and soon Gabe was sitting there in a strange woman’s car with a drunk brother who looked as if was going to wake up tomorrow and hopefully forget all of this. Gabe wasn’t up to reminding him, or correcting him, but he could feel Marisa’s curiosity in the darkness.
Finally Gabe broke the silence. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to talk to him. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what not to say. I want to pretend like nothing ever happened, but that’s wrong, too.”
“Has he been to counseling?”
“Daniel? Uh, no.”
“Why not?” she asked calmly.
“He’s not the counseling type,” Gabe responded, because nobody in their right mind went to counseling, and the O’Sullivans were all in their right minds, at least most of the time.
“Oh,” she said, then went back to being quiet.
Gabe glanced at Daniel, noted the nodding head, and sighed. One of the most frustrating things was that Gabe could usually fix anything—personal problem, leaky faucet, clogged beer tap. But lately he was striking out left and right. First with Tessa, now with Daniel. For a man who prided himself on the ability to handle every problem thrown his way, this wasn’t good. “You think I should do something, don’t you? Take him to a shrink or read some books to figure out how to talk to my own brother.” Yeah, he sounded defensive. So what?
“I don’t know.”
They didn’t say anything more on the way to the building, but Gabe knew that Marisa didn’t approve of Gabe. Easy for her to make judgments when there was no right or wrong, no good or bad, just a man who had a hole where his heart used to be.
It wasn’t right.
Daniel’s building was down near Wall Street, within the shadow of where the towers had stood.
Marisa eased the car into a parking garage and Gabe looked at her in surprise. “You can drop us off. I can take it from here.”
Marisa claimed the ticket from the attendant and shrugged. “You might need some help, and it’s not like I have somewhere to be.”
Gabe gave her a long look and then waved it off. “Your choice.”
Daniel was incoherent in the back, so Gabe was grateful for the help, and they lugged Daniel upstairs to his apartment.
When they entered the apartment, Marisa looked around. “Nice place. One bedroom but roomy. And the view’s good.”
Gabe smiled, maneuvering Daniel out of his suit jacket. He was the only man Gabe knew who would get shit-faced in a jacket and tie. “You sound like Tessa. No wonder you two are friends.”
“She’s nice,” Marisa offered and then ran forward when Daniel started to tilt.
“Just remember to stay on her good side.” Gabe smiled slightly.
“I don’t think she has a bad side.”
“You don’t know her well enough.”
“You two are roommates?”
Gabe wheeled Daniel toward the bedroom. “It’s a temporary thing. She needed a place to live. I had space.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“She would do the same for me.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think she would.”
With one finger pressed to his brother’s chest, he landed Daniel on the bed. Daniel was going to be out for a long, long time. Gabe looked at the clock, saw that it was three, and suppressed a yawn.
“You don’t have to sit up. I’ll take the first watch. I think your brother’s out for a few hours.” Marisa was fast becoming a saint in Gabe’s eyes.
“You don’t mind?”
“Nah. I’ll turn the television on.”
Gabe gave her a hard look. “I’m sorry about earlier. Too bad it didn’t work. I like you.”
Marisa looked at Daniel, looked at Gabe and then shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”
GABE STAGGERED HOME ON Monday morning. Tessa hadn’t wanted to stay up, but she had. But when she heard the key in the lock, she dashed back to her room and pretended to be asleep. Not for long, though, because eventually her masochistic tendencies got the better of her. Tessa had to know.
She came out, rubbing her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the coffeepot that was filled with fresh coffee.
Sadly Gabe didn’t look as if he was noticing much. His eyes were red, and his wrinkled shirt looked as if it had been pulled from the clothes hamper.
“How was the date?” asked Tessa, keeping her face casually interested, not wanting to read too much into appearances—telling as they were.
“Great,” answered Gabe.
“Great is good,” she said and then pulled out her box of cereal. “Want some?” she ased, holding out a handful—which, after he declined, she forced herself to eat. The cereal tasted like cardboard or that plastic food that restaurants kept out on display for decades at a time. Neither of which Tessa had an appetite for.
Gabe watched her for a minute and then shook his head. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“You going to see her again?” asked Tessa as she watched him walk down the hall. He looked so tired, so exhausted, and she knew exactly why he was so tired, and the rock in her gut knew exactly why he was so tired, too.
Then Gabe turned around, spearing her with a glance. “Do you want me to see her again?”
With those bloodshot eyes and a shirt that should have been burned, Tessa knew she had to tread carefully. “Do you like her?” she asked, which seemed noncommittal enough. If he said yes, then she’d know that her fling with Gabe had been nothing more than that. A fling.
“She’s nice enough,” he answered, completely noncommittal—but not a yes, either.
“Yeah,” agreed Tessa.
Gabe rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, she’s nice or, yeah, you want me to go out with her again?”
“Yeah, she’s nice.”
He squinted at her. “Did you change your eyebrows?”
Self-consciously she smoothed them back. “It’s called grooming.”
He nodded once. “It looks nice.” Then he stared at the door to his bedroom, then stared back at Tessa. Then he sighed. “Are you ever going to tell me why I’m jumping through all these hoops, Tessa?”
There was something so disarming about the look in those blue eyes. This was the man who probably knew her better than anyone in New York.
She owed him something; she owed him the truth. “Because you scare me,” she said, the words coming out in a rush.
The bloodshot eyes looked at her, confused, as though it wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “Why? I’m the most unscary person on the planet.”
And for Tessa, that exact unscariness was the reason he was so dangerous to her well-being. If he was as raunchy as Sean, or as serious as Daniel, she’d have her shields up, and it’d be easy to keep a relationship alive while chasing her career. But Gabe wasn’t like most men. Her shields had never even had a chance.
“I need time, Gabe. That’s all. I have things I have to do first. I have to learn to be on my own.”
“I’m tired of your rules, I’m tired of your guidelines. Damn, right now I’m tired.”
He did look tired, and she hated that she was doing this, but if she didn’t do it now, she never would. He didn’t know how weak she really was. She had to make sure she could make it on her own. She had to make sure with one hundred percent certainty that if she needed to support herself, she could. Nobody seemed to understand that but her.
She stared into his tired eyes and willed herself to be strong. “I’ve known you for four years. You’re the first person I met in New York. The first person who offered me a job, the first person who made sure I understood the difference between a local and an express train, the first person who explained to me how to cross against the light in order to not be run over by the eight thousand people crossing against the light from the opposite direction. There’s no one that I’ve ever depended on more, Gabe. Nobody. Not even Denny. I can’t depend on you like that.”
Gabe, who had taken care of himself for his entire life, shrugged easily. “Yes, you can.”
“I have to learn to depend on myself first.”
“Tessa you can do anything you want.” He ran a hand through his hair. Dark, silky hair that probably Marisa had touched the way Tessa longed to.
Now wasn’t the time to think about his hair, she reminded herself. “You’re right. I can do anything I want. But I have to actually do it. I can’t just want to do it. There’s a difference.”
He took that in, and she could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally he nodded. “How long are we talking about here? A month? Another four years?”
And now they were discussing schedules. Tessa, who was about five years off hers, felt the familiar panic rise up inside her. “I don’t know.”
Gabe frowned, not sensing her panic, probably because he never panicked. Never felt that urgency at three in the morning, when she stared up at the ceiling, thinking of what she should be doing with her life and how much of a failure she would be if she didn’t decide soon.
“Do you know where I was last night?” he asked.
“Yeah,” answered Tessa, not really wanting to have this conversation.
“No. No, you don’t. It was Daniel’s wedding anniversary last night. Do you know how many wedding anniversaries he and Michelle had?”
“No,” she said, not understanding what Daniel’s wife had to do with his date with Marisa.
“Not a single one. They were married exactly five months before she was killed and never had one anniversary. Do you know what my brother did last night, Tessa?”
“No.”
“He got drunk. Falling down drunk in some bar in Westchester that I don’t even know how he ended up at. Sometimes it’s their anniversary, sometimes it’s her birthday and sometimes it’s nothing at all. My brother had a total of ten months with Michelle, and that was it. All my life I’ve been surrounded by people whose time was up before it was supposed to be, and nobody knows what’ll happen. We could all go tomorrow and—poof—we never would have had a chance. So you can see why I’m not eager to sit on my hands while you move forward with your life. I don’t want to end up drunk in a sports bar in Westchester because you needed time.”
“I’m sorry,” answered Tessa. And she was. She hated that people had to hurt. She hated that Daniel was hurt—he didn’t deserve that. She hated that Gabe was hurt—he didn’t deserve it either. But Tessa couldn’t fix the problems of the world, she had to focus on fixing Tessa. She had to fix herself or she never would. And maybe it didn’t matter to Gabe, maybe it didn’t matter to Daniel, maybe it didn’t matter to anyone but Tessa, but this was her last shot and she knew it. There were other people who could start over at thirty or start over at forty, or start over at sixty-five, but Tessa had never started at all. At some point she had to get out of the gate, and the clock was ticking.
“It doesn’t matter to me if you’re who you want to be or who you are, Tessa. You’re you. That’s enough for me. Why don’t we go slow? You want to do your class. Stay here.”
“I don’t know that I can do that, Gabe,” she said, even though she knew she couldn’t. Gabe was a long stretch of pristine beach looking out over the ocean. The summer breeze blowing across your skin, warming you, making you drowsy and relaxed. Tessa remembered those long, lazy days by the water, hours passing as you did nothing but lay there catching rays.
He met her eyes. “Don’t make me wait too long, because patience is too close to failure for me.”
“I won’t,” she said, feeling the panic moving up her throat. Panic that tasted remarkably like cold cereal.
Tessa swallowed it down. Keeping away from Gabe was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she knew she didn’t have a choice, and maybe tomorrow she’d feel as if she’d conquered the world, but right now she felt like garbage.
So she smiled at him as if she’d just conquered the world. “Starts on Wednesday. Eight o’clock to five o’clock for ten straight days. I needed to talk to you about my schedule. I can’t be there until after five, when class is over. And then when I get my license, I think I should put in my two weeks notice at the bar. I’m going to make this work.”
“Sure,” he said, then gave her one last disappointed look. Their eyes locked, and she longed to take the easy way out, to run to him and ditch every damned goal she’d ever set for herself. It was just like before, when she was young and naive. However, this time she was older, wiser—and this time she was close to achieving what she wanted. So close. If he’d only give her the time to succeed. That was all she wanted. Time. And Gabe.
She sighed, a long, slow exhale of air because she needed to remember to breathe.
His gaze did move off her. Onto something new. “I’m going to bed.”
ON TUESDAY, TESSA HAD to turn in her application and fees for the real-estate class. As she got ready to leave, she messed with her hair for two hours in the bathroom. But even after two hours it still didn’t look any better. She pulled it back, she moussed it (that’d been a mistake), she wore a headband and then finally she combed it back down into her eyes, just the way she always wore it. But still she wasn’t satisfied. The thing about making over your life was that you wanted to do it in strappy heels and head-turning lipstick—and without a man’s name tattoed on your butt.
A trip to Sephora killed two nights’ worth of tips, but in exchange, she was now in possession of the handiwork of the devil.
Makeup.
Mascara, concealer, an eyelash curler, pressed powder, lip gloss, eye shadow, liner, foundation and four high-dollar tubes of lipstick. Tessa lined them up in a neat little row and studied them all carefully, taking note of what she was about to do.
Today she was moving one necessary step closer to the dark side, using tools designed to make women more appealing to men. Makeup was worn by women who lived with men, women who needed men to support them, women who needed male approval in order to feel fulfilled as a woman.
Women like Marisa.
Marisa, who was going to get her into Hudson Towers. There, Tessa felt her sense of resolve return.
Hudson Towers. A place to go home to after a hard day’s work, with no worries about tomorrow. She could look at the New York skyline and know that she had conquered them all.
That was power.
That was success.
Tessa smiled as though she were happy.
After utilizing the handiwork of the devil, she stared at herself in the mirror and decided that, yes, that devil was one smart dude. She looked awesome. Except for the hairstyle—or lack thereof.
Tomorrow she would get her tattoo removed. But then she pulled at the waist of her jeans, looked at the scarlet letters and decided that, no, she was going to keep it until she passed her real-estate exam. After that, the tattoo was gone. History. And her transformation would be complete.
As she went on the subway, she noticed the looks in men’s eyes, the envy from women, too. She turned in her application, paid the fees in cash, and said thank you to the lady at the desk as if she had the world at her feet.
The woman was polite and smiled, until the next lady showed up behind Tessa with strappy heels, head-turning lipstick and a killer hairstyle.
Tessa knew she didn’t have a choice. She was going to make over her life, her face, her feet and, yes, her hair. After that, she could have dessert. Namely on Gabe O’Sullivan à la mode.
She sped into a salon that she normally couldn’t afford, but this was for her career. She was changing her life, and the usual discount place wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
By the time she left, Francois had turned her into a veritable swan. And, sadly, because she needed to show it off, and Marisa wouldn’t understand, and her family was in Florida, she had no place to go but Prime.
Tessa hesitated outside the place, feeling nervous and foolish, but so what? She needed someone to tell her she looked good. She needed Gabe to tell her she looked good.
She pulled open the heavy door and walked in as if she owned the joint, which she didn’t.
Sean whistled and Charlie adjusted his glasses.
Gabe smiled.
Not wanting to tempt fate, she sat in front of Sean.
“I could have sex with you,” he said. “I just need to get that out in the open. Not that I want you to think I’m a shallow SOB whose head gets turned by a long neck and a great ass, but I can’t help who I am, and I believe in being honest and up front with women. So they know exactly what they’re getting. Besides a good time, I mean.”
“Thank you,” Tessa said primly.
It took thirty-three minutes for Gabe to approach her. She kept track. “You look good,” he said when Sean went off to get a phone number from some woman nearby.
“Thank you,” she said, basking in his warmth for only a little bit. She had always loved the beach.
“Ready for class?”
“I’ve been studying.”
“You don’t need to study for this. You can do apartment rentals and sales in your sleep.”
“Maybe. But the class isn’t about which buildings allow pets. I have to know contracts and finance and insurance and equal-opportunity laws.”
“You’ll still do fine. Any luck with the roommate situation? The phone’s been quiet.”
“I think I found a place. Should come open in about three weeks.”
“Really?”
“And I’ll be living single,” she said proudly.
“Very nice,” he said, but he didn’t look happy.
“Yeah. Finally. It’s only been twenty-six years.”
“You’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
“Yes, yes, I do. For the first time in my life I have something to celebrate. I’m going to head out now. Test out my new look on somebody else besides these losers.”
“That’s a good idea. Head over to the Carlyle. Classy place. Elegant. Like you.”
“I think I will. I’ve never been in there before.”
She could feel him watching her as she walked out the door.
Tessa smiled. Maybe it would be okay after all.
GABE LEFT SEAN IN CHARGE of closing, which was normally a recipe for disaster, but tonight he didn’t care. Tessa needed him and he knew it. She wasn’t a woman to go sit in bars alone like Marisa. She’d start talking to some used-car salesman from Omaha who was away from his wife for the first time in twenty years. And he’d want to get laid and he’d monopolize Tessa’s time for four hours until it was last call, and then she’d feel bad, but tell the guy no, and he would get all pissed off at her and yell, and Tessa didn’t need that kind of crap.
So Gabe took a quick shower, pulled out the black pants and shirt that he kept in the back of his closet for special nights and headed for the Carlyle.
He saw her immediately, sitting at the bar, a middle-aged toupee type sitting three seats away, giving her the eye.
Gabe sighed. When he was right, he was right.
He leaned against the wall, content to watch her for a while. There were women who took your breath away, and then there were women who were pure oxygen. That was Tessa.
Another lowlife hit on her, and she smiled politely, buying the loser a drink only because she felt sorry. Another lowlife came up, a little more forceful than the last, and her perfectly shaped brows curved downward, signaling a woman in need of rescuing.
Cue Gabe.
“Hi,” he said, taking the seat next to her.
Tessa looked up, her eyes startled, and she began to say something—probably no, but he wasn’t going to give her a chance. Gabe put a finger on her mouth. Tonight they’d do things her way. “No. We’ve never met.”
For a second she looked at him the way he’d dreamed she would look at him. Her green eyes were soft and filled with things that a used-car salesman from Omaha would never understand. Yes, there were definite advantages to doing things her way.
“Why are you drinking alone? A beautiful woman like you? You should have dozens of men buying you drinks, but instead you’re buying them all drinks. If you worked in a bar, you’d know this. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”
“If wishes were horses…”
“Can I get you something to drink, Miss I-Can’t-Follow-the-Rules? Maybe some champagne? Or a cosmopolitan. You’re looking very cosmopolitan tonight.”
She shook her head. “No champagne. Diet soda, I think.”
“You must be a lightweight.”
“No, champagne sounds flat.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing it were perfect. She should have perfect.
“Don’t be.”
“What are you celebrating?”
She tried to smile at him. “Being alone.”
“Bad breakup?”
“It hurt.”
Gabe told himself to be careful. With the look in her eyes, the tight curve of her lips, he could easily forget about taking things slow. But this one answer he had to know. “Any regrets?”
“Nah,” she said, slaying him with a single word. “It had to be done.”
“You want me to leave?”
Her gaze scanned his face, up and down, back and forth, as if he were a piece of art and not a living, breathing man—although he was currently not breathing.
Tessa licked her lips slowly, carefully, and he still didn’t breathe. “It makes me a weak person if I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want to be weak, but I don’t want you to leave, either.”
Gabe took a breath. “I don’t think you’re weak.”
“I do,” she said, sounding so sad, so lonely, and he hated that wanting to be with him made her sad. It shouldn’t happen that way. He shouldn’t want to take advantage of it, but, goddamn, he couldn’t stop. How could he stop?
Silently Gabe got up, refusing to look at the heartbreak in her eyes. Tessa looked at him, startled, but didn’t keep him.
They’d both be better off if he left.
TESSA KNEW GABE HAD done the right thing. He was trying to give her the time she’d asked for. She waved over the bartender.
“I’ll take a tequila shot,” she ordered, which was her panacea for most everything in the world.
She looked around the bar, seeing the cartoons on the wall, the beautiful people who were laughing and living here.
She didn’t belong.
When Gabe sat next to her, she could pretend, and it was fun to pretend, but it was nothing more than pretend.
She rubbed a finger around the rim of the glass, tasting the tang of alcohol, and then Gabe returned.
He ordered a beer and didn’t say a word to her, but there was a key in front of him. Not a car key, not a key to the bar, not a key to all her problems, but a hotel room key.
