Gabe stifled a groan. He couldn’t see the problem. There were plenty of women out there ready to grab what they could. “Pre-nups are common practice these days.”
“Well, these days suck!” April blew her nose again. “I’d love him no matter what.”
He shrugged. “Then sign.”
Nina spoke up. “If he trusted her, he wouldn’t ask her to sign.”
April sat a little straighter, then gave a solid nod.
Gabriel assessed the situation. He felt a lynching coming on, but realities couldn’t be ignored. Pre-nups weren’t heartless. They were useful tools in this modern-day, litigious, high-rate-of-divorce society. A better option was don’t say I do. Don’t move in together. Then property and other entitlement issues didn’t become a problem.
Keep it simple.
Fun.
Brief.
His gaze skated to Nina before he crossed to the fridge, extracted juice, and very nearly grinned at a selfish thought. He looked across at April. “You can always come back and work for me.”
She hadn’t heard. “I can’t see a way around this. Liam’s gotten so testy all of a sudden. He even complained about the service here this morning.”
Gabriel’s business mind swooped in. “The service?” Nina’s ears seemed to have pricked too.
April unfolded to her feet. “Don’t worry. The service is great.” Her brows pinched. “A little starchy, maybe.” She rubbed her arms. “Too serious, or something. And that main restaurant could use a push into the twenty-first century—” She stopped and her shoulders came down. “But I’m not your PA any more.” Her eyes began to fill. “I’m a woman who has to cancel her wedding.”
A small sob escaped, and Gabriel strode over to give her a brotherly hug.
“It’ll be okay. He’s just got cold feet.” He shivered, just thinking about it, and he was only a guest.
April blinked her big green eyes up at him. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”
“April, getting married is scary stuff.”
When April’s eyes flared and her bottom lip wobbled, Nina came forward.
“What Gabriel means is that it’s a big step in any person’s life.” Nina sent him an “enough on the advice” look, and Gabriel sent back a “what did I say?” shrug. “I’m sure your fiancé will come around.”
April heaved a sigh then dredged up a smile. “Thanks—” she acknowledged Gabriel “—both of you. I just hope you’re right.”
She dabbed her eyes a final time and Gabriel let her out.
At the door, he spun back and rubbed his hands. “Now, where were we?”
“We were feeling terrible for April,” Nina reminded him as he spanned the distance separating them with “onetrack mind” blinking like a neon sign on his forehead.
He threaded her fingers with his, drew two arcs in the air as he lifted her hands, and kissed each one while keeping his lidded gaze on hers. “If that’s what they both want, they’ll work it out.”
“You’re right. If he truly loves her, he’ll see nothing should stand in their way.”
Gabriel didn’t object, but he didn’t agree either. He merely began to lead her, hand in hand, towards his bedroom.
But she tugged back. “We need to talk.”
“And we will.” Hands on her waist, he bounced her up, like a human spear, into the air.
Caught between a laugh and a wail, she clutched onto his shoulders as he let her body slide, bit by bit, all the way down against his hard frame until her feet hovered an inch above the ground and their mouths finally met.
His kiss was drugging…so penetrating and involving that the sheer mastery of it—the undercurrent of ownership it conveyed—robbed her of any sense of time or place. Her nerve-endings were live wires by the time she realised he’d moved them into the bedroom…was lowering and tipping her back against the rumpled sheets and the jumble of downy pillows.
With deliberate calm, he set one fingertip to travel east over her collarbone. Her breasts warmed as his gaze followed the movement of his hand, which had skimmed nearer her cleavage. When his outside finger curved under her robe and over the mound of her left breast heat sizzled through her veins, condensing low in her belly before snaking down to stroke between her thighs.
Eyes drifting shut, she imagined him kneading her flesh, nipping and suckling those sensitive peaks again. When his breath brushed her cheek, her lips parted to take in more air. It was eight o’clock in the morning, and already she craved his mouth working over hers, his tongue delving, darting, showing no mercy and no signs of retreat.
His touch slid higher and found the curve of her jaw. The pad of his thumb circled under her chin before curling up over the rise and applying subtle pressure until her lips parted more. Her want simmered and steamed, a hot iron in the base of her belly. When she forced her eyes open his sparkling gaze was close, and she breathed out his name.
The hold on her jaw tightened as he brushed his bottom lip over hers, gently back and forth, up and then down. As if his erection was the South Pole, and her hips were super-charged magnets, she moved towards him, barely able to smother a moan of pure desire.
She was ready to give herself over to absolute passion when April’s tear-stained face flickered into her mind’s eye. Nina pushed the image aside—she would self-combust if she didn’t feel him inside her again soon—but Gabriel’s words…getting married is scary stuff…kept rolling over in her brain.
Scary was such an odd choice of word. It conjured up pictures of blood-sucking demons, or speeding around a hairpin turn with no brakes. Getting married was a serious affair—no argument. There was lots to consider. Precautions to take. But weddings shouldn’t be scary.
She realised his mouth had lifted from her collarbone. He was peering into her eyes, concern creasing his brow.
“Nina, what’s wrong? Your ankle hurting?”
She released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “I can’t stop thinking about April.”
His nod was sombre. “It’s a worry, but it’s their business.” His mouth nipped her chin. “Right now, I’m only concerned about you and me.”
The warmth of his hand trailed up her leg, but a switch had been flicked on and Nina couldn’t switch it back.
“You and me?” she repeated, then shimmied away and sat up. “You’re right. We need to talk.”
Two fingers trailed down her exposed thigh. “We can talk later.”
She flipped the robe over her legs. “We should talk now.”
His breath seemed to lock in his chest before he exhaled, rolled on one side and propped his weight on an elbow, head resting on his palm. “Okay. Shoot.”
“This is where we are. We know each other’s true identities, names, circumstances, past and present. I no longer have a job, and I don’t want to be handed another one under the table. Finally, I’m being intimate with the man who gave me the axe.”
He considered her summary, then nodded once. “That would be true and correct.”
“So I’m thinking…” Her wry gaze darted left and right. “What happens now?”
“You heard the doctor. You need to stay off your feet. Since you’re no longer entitled to staff quarters, I’m happy to offer you accommodation here until I leave on Monday.”
She muttered, “Nothing like taking with one hand and giving with the other.”
Was Gabriel friend or foe? Her guardian angel or the devil in disguise?
He exhaled patiently. “Fact is Gabriel Steele can’t retain staff who don’t measure up—but Gabe Turner can’t turn Anthony’s sister out on her ear.” He covered her hand with his. “And the man who made love to you all night, who wants to make love to you now, can’t either. I’ll do anything to help you…except put you on another shift.”
Nina chewed her lip. She wanted to tell him that if she was being sacked for impropriety she would argue he’d been the one to seduce her.
Sure, she’d been a willing participant. But if she’d spoken up sooner would her being a waitress have made any difference? They still would have slept together. She couldn’t see that information stopping him at the crucial point.
“If you won’t let me help you land a job,” he added, “why not use your recuperation time here helping yourself? There must be connections of your own you haven’t tried yet. Places you could contact.” He squeezed her hand. “Sharpen up your résumé. Get on the phone.”
She’d been ready to be difficult—from the moment he’d rescued her he’d always seemed so eager to run her life. But his idea held merit. And the simple truth was, despite the hot-and-cold journey they’d been on together, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet.
And if she stayed here she might be able to convince him that she needed her job back. She wasn’t a quitter. She had something to prove—to him, to the staff, and more so to herself. She hadn’t earned her position here. She couldn’t change that, but she could make up for it by working even harder and in some small way making a difference. If she was on a journey to rediscover herself, surely making that mistake right was part of it?