Treasured by Thursday(34)

“Maybe now that Mr. Blackwell has a wife, you can make sure his suits are pressed and the flowers are ordered.”

Hunter shot his secretary a look that made Gabi cringe.

“Or not,” Tiffany said before moving away.

Hunter took the untouched champagne from Gabi’s hand and set it on a nearby tray.

“Senator Fillmore . . . I’d like you to meet my wife, Gabriella.”

A face she recognized. “We’ve met,” she managed as she extended her hand.

“We have?” the senator said.

“Yes, last year. I was a guest of Carter and Eliza Billings at the Hollywood fundraiser.” Carter was the former governor of California and was taking a political break for a couple of years while he and his wife adjusted to parenthood. Truth was, Carter was destined for bigger things than the governor seat, and everyone knew it. Eliza . . . well, she and Sam were the best of friends.

“How is it I don’t remember you?”

“There were over a thousand people at the event,” Gabi reminded him.

The silver-haired senator shook his head. “I won’t forget a second time.”

Hunter didn’t give her time to linger and moved them to another set of guests.

After a dozen more introductions, Gabi was ready for a break. She leaned close and whispered. “Restroom?”

“Down the hall, double doors to the master suite.”

For the first time in over an hour and a half, she left Hunter’s side.

The noise of the room started to fade as she made her way to the private, off-limits side of the home. She pushed through the closed doors and leaned against them, absorbing the quiet.

The lights turned on with her movement in the room. Soft light filled the wall behind the massive king-size bed. A dark gray coverlet draped over the mattress and the simple artwork of New York and Los Angeles skylines in black and white were the only pieces on the wall. The drapes hadn’t been drawn, giving the room a slight chill. Drawn to the sight, Gabi moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows to soak in the view.

So this is where Hunter Blackwell sleeps.

She knew he had a residence in New York as well . . . one with a view most likely more magical than the one in front of her now. She wondered, briefly, if she’d ever see it.

Cityscape had its place. The single world, one without a family . . . a life . . . a pet.

Yet even as those thoughts filled her head, she realized that she’d been living in a suburban home without any of those things . . . and no view to speak of.

She’d always wanted a puppy as a child and never had one. After her father had passed, she’d stopped asking. Then again, she was a young teen and Val had taken over as man of the house. Her mother wouldn’t stand for an animal, and then Gabi simply forgot about it.

The image of the house she and Hunter were purchasing surfaced. Maybe she could have a dog after all. An animal to depend on her. Something to come home to.

The gray slate floors and marble counter of the en suite bathroom were masculine but not deprived of texture. A simple flowering orchid sat in the center of two sinks . . . a shaver plugged into an outlet by one of the sinks. Without realizing she did so, Gabi opened a drawer, saw the usual suspects inside. Toothbrush, mouthwash . . . things of that nature. The next drawer housed an open box of condoms.

She had a strong desire to count them, then decided against it.

Instead of lingering in Hunter’s space, she moved through the room and glanced at his bed once.

Well, maybe twice.

The presence on the other side of the double doors made her catch her breath. “Andrew.”

“Sorry to startle you. Just wanted to ensure your privacy.” The man stood back, giving her all the space she needed.

Lord, she could use a drink. “Can you show me the kitchen, Andrew?”

“It’s a bit hectic in there right now.”

She thought of the mass of caterers that were serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres. “I’d like to think I’m not a guest.”

“Of course.”

Andrew pivoted, and Gabi followed.

The kitchen was as sleek and modern as the rest of the home. A cook’s kitchen put to work with an event such as this.

“I think they’re fine. Murray wouldn’t have sent them if they weren’t servable!”

There was one woman, and one man, in solid white. The chefs.

And an obvious power struggle.

In Gabi’s experience, one too many chefs in the kitchen always created problems.

Unlike her brother’s island, the employees in this atmosphere weren’t ones she needed to concern herself with for the long run.

The click of her heels sounded on the hard surface of the marble floors as she made her way to the trays of shrimp the two chefs argued over.