know…finding people and matching them to what they want—and that you could do. Definitely.”
“I don’t know, Gabe,” she started, because she had already decided on a career path and, okay, a D on an accounting test wasn’t the most promising of signs, but if she kept changing her path, who knew where she’d end up? Probably a chain-smoker at forty-seven, still tending bar, with a tattoo on her arm that said Mother to match the D-E-N-N-Y that was still tattooed on her butt.
“What’s the safest apartment building in the city?” asked Gabe.
“The Lucerne,” she answered, ripping her mind off the creepy image of a Mother tattoo.
“I’m looking for a building. Pets, walk-up, in Battery Park, and I don’t want to pay too much. Where should I start?”
“Liberty Manor,” she said automatically, and Gabe gave her one of those annoying I-told-you-so looks.
Slowly it dawned on her that, yes, Gabe was correct. “You think I could do it? I wouldn’t, uh, scare people?” she asked, mentally comparing her wine-stained T-shirt to Marisa’s unwrinkled suit.
“Certainly you could do it. But don’t quit your night job. I’m not ready to lose my best bartender.”
Tessa tossed her rag in his direction. “You’re the best bartender here, Gabe.”
“I can’t put myself in the competition. Wouldn’t be fair.”
He smiled at her then, looking at Tessa as if she could do anything. And she wanted to believe that.
“Slacker,” she teased.
“Speaking of slacker, do you know if they delivered the wood next door?”
“Lindy didn’t say anything, but…”
He cocked his head toward the street. “Come on, we’ll check it out. You’re not in a hurry to get home, are you?”
Home. He said it so easily, and she bought into this whole I-can-live-there-forever fantasy so easily. Still, she shook her head, drifting along, not willing to correct him. “No, I had a cup of coffee at eleven.”
“Jeez, you’re never getting any sleep tonight.”
They walked outside and around the corner to the empty space next door. The early-summer wind was perfect and a soft rain was just starting to fall. Tessa lifted her face to the warm water, feeling herself come alive.
The old bodega had stood vacant for all of two weeks before Gabe had jumped all over it. The truth was, the crowds at Prime did usually bump over capacity, and buying the old space back had been a smart idea. Of course, Gabe was good that way. Making a plan, executing and then seeing it through to success. He didn’t wait for anything, or let anything get in his way.
While Tessa watched, he used his keys to lift the grate and then unlock the door.
“We’ll have power tomorrow if the gods at Con Ed are agreeable, but tonight darkness rules,” he said, as the glass door creaked open.
Tessa followed him through, curious to see the guts of the place now that it was empty. In the darkness there wasn’t a lot to see, but even so, she could sense his enthusiasm.
“S’all right,” she told him, picking her way around the spools of electrical cable and the mess of tools scattered throughout the place. She stumbled over a power cord, and he caught her arm.
“I’ve got it,” she said and quickly pulled her arm free.
“Sure,” he answered, his voice cooling a degree.
Then she noticed the presence of most of telltale cans of Dr Pepper. Gabe was the only person in New York she knew who drank Dr Pepper.
She shook her head, cutting through the dim light to see him standing there, so absolutely sure he could do anything. “And you’re going to do this in your spare time?”
“Sure. You can ace accounting, and I can pull a rabbit out of a white Russian.”
“You shouldn’t believe your own press. Besides, I got a D on my exam last week.”
He took a step closer, and she could feel the waves of sympathy emanating from him. Not the pity look—she hated that. “Do you want me to help you study?”
“Accounting?” she asked skeptically.
“Maybe not, but Daniel would if you asked.”
“I hate accounting,” she said in a quiet voice, sitting down on the electrical spool, confessing the secret that she’d come to realize recently.
He sat down next to her, not touching but exuding that bulk of warming comfort that was fast becoming as necessary to her as water. “Maybe you’re chasing the wrong career,” he offered gently.
“At some point in time I have to pick one, Gabe. You’ve known what you’ve wanted to do since you were sixteen. Not all of us are that lucky.”
“Six.”
“What?”
“Actually, I’ve known what I wanted to do since I was six. Other kids were out playing Starsky and Hutch, me and Sean were inventing drinks and lighting them on fire.”
Tessa felt the smile curving her lips. “You’re lucky you didn’t burn the place down.”
“I knew where the fire extinguishers were.”
She envied him that sense of belonging, the peace of knowing his future, missing out on the whole what-are-you-going-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life? stress. “You really think I could get into real estate?”
“I really think you ought to try if you really want to.” His voice had changed, gotten deeper, huskier, and she knew—absolutely knew—that he was bone-stirringly close because her Gabe-challenged nerve endings quivered in response.
In the darkness, she didn’t see him move as much as felt it. His hand cupped the back of her neck, unerringly leading her toward his mouth, and—sweet mercy—she wasn’t about to pull away.
The tender draw of his lips on hers was something new, not the hot sweat of passion that they’d found before. She tried to conjure up her security blanket of fantasy images. Desperately seeking a handsome stranger who could coax screaming orgasms from her or the dark loner who didn’t want anything from her but a single night of sex. But she was losing focus on these men. She wasn’t interested in fantasy anymore.
She wanted Gabe.
And if Tessa kept her eye on the sex only, not letting her heart get involved, not getting distracted from her goals, she could have her cake and eat it, too.
Sex. That’s all she had to focus on. The sex. And it wasn’t difficult because, well, she knew about sex with Gabe and, best of all, she loved the sex with Gabe.
Unfortunately, Gabe wasn’t in on her plan. His kiss was no promise of raw sex but a promise of something else. Tessa grew bold,
