And in the meantime, Alice wondered, how normal was her life? She had been so busy making sure they both learned valuable lessons about the nature of men that she had forgotten how young she still was. And her mother had tried to remind her of that, but she had unhelpfully brushed aside those conversations.
‘So there you have it,’ she said crisply. ‘It would have been better if you hadn’t known, but...’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Alice laughed and there was an edge to her laughter. ‘Because you’re not interested in other people’s lives, Gabriel. You’re probably embarrassed that you’ve ended up here with me pouring all this out, but it’s your fault for showing up unannounced.’
‘Ah, we’re back to the Alice Morgan who wants to pick a fight with me... It’s not going to work.’
She was sorely tempted to ask him about his personal life but something held her back. Maybe she didn’t want to hear that mantra about never committing to any woman. Maybe she wanted to believe that...that what? That she could somehow change him because she was in love with him?
Hell would freeze over before that happened!
But, as they ordered food, she was keenly aware that she had let all her guard down with him, that the chance of returning to the fragile relationship she had worked hard to put back in place after Paris was changed for good.
And, for her part, she had seen yet another slice of this complex man—a genuinely thoughtful side that he kept well hidden under an armour of a ruthless, single-minded drive to succeed.
She ruefully thought that, while she had been busy never taking chances, while she had made a big deal of her non-relationship with Alan as yet further proof of how important it was to protect yourself from being hurt, her mother, for all her problems and her devastating marriage, had been courageous enough to take chances of her own.
The only chances Alice had taken were those snatched days and nights in Paris when she had thrown caution to the winds and had allowed her body to rule her head.
And she had made damn sure to scuttle back to the safety of what she knew the second they had returned to London.
From under lowered lashes, she watched as he worked his way through his food, the way he engaged her in conversation whether she wanted him to or not, the tactful way he desisted from prying further into her past. She took in those long, brown fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass as he sipped his wine and the brooding intensity of his dark eyes as they rested on her flushed face...
Sensitive to every nuance of her body language, Gabriel sensed the shift in atmosphere.
He had stopped being the enemy she had mistakenly slept with, the enemy whose hot kisses she wanted to resist but couldn’t...
He had her and satisfaction roared through him. He had stopped thinking that he just needed to sleep with her to get her out of his system. He now thought that he just needed to sleep with her. He needed to have her body under him, on him and alongside him. He needed to feel the silky smoothness of her slender thighs between his legs. He needed to touch her breasts and feel her melt under his hands.
The meal couldn’t end soon enough for him, although he didn’t think he could actually sleep with her in her mother’s house. Thinking about having to wait until they were back in London brought a painful ache in his groin. He could barely focus on the conversation she was having with him.
‘If you’d rather I stay somewhere else overnight,’ he told her gruffly, ‘then I’m happy to oblige.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘The fact that you tried so hard to dissuade your mother from her hospitality.’
‘I’ve never known my mum to dig her heels in the way she did,’ Alice confessed, closing her knife and fork on what had been a superb meal. ‘But, no.’ She shot him a flushed, determined stare and her heart picked up speed as he met her gaze and held it for longer than was necessary. ‘She would be upset if you disappeared to stay in a bed and breakfast. In fact, she would probably blame me. She probably blames me for trying to over-protect her.’ The admission was forced out of her and she lowered her eyes. ‘If I hadn’t been so...forceful, who knows? She might have found Mr Right a bit sooner.’
‘He may not be Mr Right,’ Gabriel told her gently. ‘But he might just be the guy who takes her out of herself, someone she’s willing to have fun with even if it doesn’t last the course...’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘It’s better to feel something, anything, rather than hide behind a wall in the hope that you don’t end up getting hurt.’ He was uncomfortably aware that this was advice he didn’t actually follow to the letter himself, although his lack of emotional involvement had nothing to do with getting hurt or not getting hurt. He had no need to commit, so he didn’t. There was no Mrs Right for him because that was a complication he didn’t need. He was perfectly fine as he was, unlike Pamela Morgan, who wanted more. Unlike her daughter, who probably wanted more as well.