Surprise took over the irritated look on Benny’s face.
“Feel free to have the valet take care of the car in the future.”
Benny nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Hunter walked Gabi around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
When she attempted to move around him, he blocked her path. “Try not to jump,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?”
Using the hand lingering on her back, he pulled her close and lowered his lips to hers.
Shock registered in her eyes. She couldn’t back away, the car was there to stop her, but she didn’t push.
He kept his hold loose, didn’t want to scare her.
Her full lips were soft, the scent of her skin and the exotic floral aroma of her hair were something he’d think about long after she left.
“Relax, Gabi.”
Hunter felt her effort. Watched as her dark lashes fluttered closed.
He placed a hand to the side of her face and tilted her head back. Her lips parted enough for a brief, intoxicating taste.
The tight rein of control Hunter always had on his emotions, his desires, started to unwind. He pulled away, almost as abruptly as he’d begun their kiss.
Their eyes locked.
Gabi sucked in her bottom lip.
Hunter ran his thumb over her chin, coaxing her lips apart. “I’ll call.”
Her throat constricted with a swallow, and she slid out of his arms and into the car.
Hunter moved to the curb and watched her pull away.
“Was it awful?” Meg asked over the phone.
Gabi called her the minute she pulled into the parking lot of the real estate agent’s office.
“I’m just happy Hunter doesn’t understand Italian. Val threatened bodily harm with a half a dozen weapons.”
“He’ll calm down. He’s worried.”
“I know. But for my sake, make him go home. The last thing I need is him hovering over me.”
“I’ve already booked his flight. He’ll be back here tomorrow.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Gabi lowered the visor and looked in the mirror. The smudge of her lipstick reminded her of Hunter’s unexpected kiss.
“Can I ask you something?” Meg asked.
“Of course.”
“Why now . . . why Hunter Blackwell?”
“I told you . . . the offer was—”
“Too good to pass up, I know. But there have been many clients that have come along that had reputations ten times better than Blackwell’s.”
Gabi ran a finger under her lip and paused. “Alonzo had a better public reputation than Blackwell. At least with Hunter I know he’s in this for his own personal gain. He’s using me with my full knowledge. There’s nothing clandestine or silent about the man, and for some strange reason that comforts me.” As the words left her lips, Gabi realized how true they were. For better or worse, she knew where she stood with Hunter.
He was using her, and she in turn would walk away a rich, and more importantly, free, woman.
“It’s not going to take long for word to spread. From what I’ve learned about Blackwell, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in this decade. There’s going to be a lot of ticked-off women out there.”
“He’s not eligible anymore.”
“It won’t stop the gold diggers from calling. Watch your back.”
Gabi hadn’t really thought about the women in Hunter’s life. Not for a minute did she believe that he’d taken himself off the marital block to simply end the pursuit of unwanted women. “I will.”
“I should go. Your mother has been in the kitchen cooking since you called this morning. At this rate, I’ll be gaining ten pounds before the end of the week. What is up with her feeding her emotions?”
“It’s an Italian thing.”
“Great. It’s going to be a fat thing. Once you’re settled in your new wifely role, you better invite your mom to visit.”
“I don’t know about—”
“Do you want her chucking pasta at your new husband in front of his employees? Because she’s already made threats.”
The image of Hunter covered in marinara sauce made her grin.
“Give us a couple of weeks.”
“I’m booking flights.”
Gabi grumbled and said her good-byes.
Two weeks to set up house and learn to be civil enough in a room with Hunter to convince her mother the man she’d married wasn’t going to hurt her.
Next to his morning coffee, Andrew set a tabloid on top of the New York Times. The caption said it all. Billionaire Playboy Off the Market.
One grainy photo was of him walking into the complex that housed his current LA residence; the other was of Gabi on the phone standing outside of the real estate office. The only solidifying factor to the magazine was the blown-up image of Gabi’s left hand. Too bad someone didn’t manage a money shot of their kiss. He’d like to see the expression on her face through a lens. Bewildered . . . just as he’d been by his own reaction. He’d risked bodily injury touching her, and yet she hadn’t pushed him into oncoming traffic, nor had she connected her knee with more sensitive parts of his anatomy. He wouldn’t say that she kissed him back, but there was something there. Something very unexpected by the both of them.