for dear life. Vertigo, he thought, definitely vertigo. Hitchcock had been a glutton for punishment to keep going back to his twitchy blondes. Yet Gabe made no move to leave, so what did that make him?
‘Why coffee?’ Mae asked.
‘Hmm?’
‘The reason you were in Brazil. Do you grow it? Pick it? Drink it? Brew it?’
Gabe paused again, calculating. But the deal was done. He’d gone over every full stop, met every employee, vetted every business practice to make sure the product line was legitimate and above reproach. And profitable, of course. Nothing, and nobody, could ruin it now.
‘I’m investing in it. Or in a mob called Bean There, to be more specific,’ he said.
But it was too late. Paige had sensed his hesitation and, for whatever reason, her knees slid away from his and back under the table. Hot and cold? The woman ran from fire to frost quicker than he could keep up.
At that point Gabe seriously considered cutting his losses. But at his heart Gabe was a shark. When he got his teeth in something it took a hell of a lot for him to let go. It was why he was the best at what he did, why he’d never met a deal he couldn’t close. She didn’t know it yet, but the longer she sat there shutting him out, the deeper she sank her hook beneath his ribs.
A voice from across the table said, ‘Oh, I love those places! Those little hole-in-the-wall joints, right? One guy and a coffee machine.’
‘That’s the ones.’
‘Ooh, how exciting,’ Mae said, ‘insider information! From our very own corporate pirate.’
Gabe flinched so hard he bit his tongue. It was as though the woman had the book on which buttons to press to make his jewels up and shrivel. ‘It’s common knowledge,’ he avowed, ‘so feel free to spread the word. The more money they make, the more steak dinners for me.’
Clearly the time had come to retreat and regroup. He pulled himself to standing.
‘Stay!’ said Mae.
‘Thanks, but no. Beauty sleep to catch up on.’
He looked to Paige to check if she was even half as moved by his imminent departure, only to find her sitting primly with her fingers clasped together as if she didn’t give a hoot. Yet her gaze had other ideas. Beginning somewhere in the region of his fly, it did a slow slide up his torso, pausing for the briefest moments on his chest, his neck, his mouth, before landing on his eyes.
‘Friday,’ he heard himself say in a voice that was pure testosterone. ‘Housewarming party at mine. You’re all welcome.’
‘We’ll be there,’ said Mae.
Gabe reached out to shake Mae’s hand. Then Clint’s. He saved Paige for last.
‘Paige,’ he said, and he lifted her hand into his. His dream had been wrong on that point at the very least. Her hand was as warm as if she’d been lying in the sun. As for her eyes … As if touching him had unleashed all that she’d been trying to hold back, desire flooded them, then exploded in his chest like a bonfire, before settling as a hot ache in his groin.
Damn.
She pulled her hand away. Her brow furrowing, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. He knew. And hell if he didn’t want more.
‘Friday,’ he said, waiting until she nodded. Then he shot the table a salute before walking away, his entire body coiled in discomfort, his field of vision a pinprick in a field of red mist as blood pounded through his body way too fast.
He headed back to his apartment. To his hard floor. The ache lingering deep in his gut. And this time as he stared at the ceiling in his big empty bedroom, sleep eluded him.
He wondered how his neighbour might react if he showed up at her door asking for a bed for the night, carrying his box of doughnuts and wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a smile. The only thing keeping him from finding out was her patent determination to remain cool. If he read her even slightly wrong, boxer shorts might be not quite enough protection.
LATER that night, when the lift doors closed several minutes after Paige had pressed the button for the eighth floor, she leant against the wall, getting herself comfortable for the ride ahead of her.
The second she closed her eyes, the picture projected onto the backs of her lids was the view of Gabe Hamilton as he’d walked away. All long strong legs and loping sexy strides. The thought of him made her tingle all over. Like static, only … hotter.
As it turned out, whatever she thought of Gabe Hamilton’s scruples about flirting with a possibly engaged woman, she hadn’t imagined the spark. It was there, in the directness of his gaze. The purpose in his smile. He knew he was gorgeous and wasn’t above using it to get what he wanted. And if she had even half a sense about such things, he wanted her.
Paige crossed her legs at the ankle and slid her thumb between her front teeth and nibbled for all she was worth.
She’d never been one of those girls who went after men who looked as if they sinned a dozen times a day and twice on Sundays. Sure, she could appreciate the appeal. The desire to tame the untameable. But she’d seen the emotional destruction a man with that kind of concentrated charm left in his wake. And while she wasn’t a big believer in happy endings, more than that she was determined never to act in such a way as to have an unhappy one.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t dated any good guys of late either. The why of it niggled at a shadowy corner of her brain, as if it should be more obvious. But while her head filled with thoughts of Gabe Hamilton, and his hot hand and hotter eyes, she was finding it hard to think straight at all.
She pulled herself upright, shook out her hands, and paced around the lift.
The sorry truth was, she’d met enough ‘good guys’ who turned out to be jerks in the end anyway. So wouldn’t it be better to know a guy was trouble from the outset? Wouldn’t it be easier to protect herself if she knew up front exactly what she was in for? Wouldn’t it be something to let go and open up to all that sinful, seductive intensity just once?
Her eyes scrunched tight and she stopped pacing.
Despite evidence to the contrary, Gabe Hamilton didn’t seem like a jerk. He seemed … focused. Sexy as all get out. More than a little bit intimidating. And by his own admission, he was only in town for a bit. Which was a plus. Maybe the biggest plus of all. She wasn’t after a relationship with the guy. Just a safe place to dip her toes into the dating pool. A kiss. Maybe a little messing about. Or a good and proper tumble.
She sucked in a deep breath and let it go.
Anyway, she didn’t have to decide that night. She had till Friday at the very least to think about it, so long as they never shared the lift in that time. Not that it had ever done right by her before.
When the lift made its first stop she twirled her hair over one shoulder, stifled a yawn, glanced at the number to check which floor besides the eighth she’d landed on,
