“Where did you find them?”
“Stuck to a towel.” He pointed to the stack he’d already folded and put in her laundry basket.
“Oh. The lace does that sometimes.”
She knew she was standing there like a frizzy-haired idiot, babbling about absolutely nothing of importance. Why couldn’t she act normal around him? Cool and composed.
But she knew why.
All she could think about was kissing him.
Or rather, the pain and suffering of having to wait to kiss him until 12:01 a.m. so that he could keep his promise to her.
She was never going to make it. Not if she wanted to hold onto her sanity, anyway.
“I was thinking,” she said as she tried to nonchalantly fold one of Summer’s dresses, “the whole New Year’s thing is kind of overrated. People always make such a big deal about it, but it’s just like any other day.”
She could feel his eyes on her, even though he was folding another towel.
“And you’re right,” she continued in what she hoped was a light voice, “there are plenty of places in the world where it’s already past midnight. Like Paris. They’ve already had their fireworks there.”
She held her breath as she waited for him to grab her and pull her against him and take the kiss she was begging for. But all he did was take the crumpled mess she was making of Summer’s dress from her hands. Sixty seconds later he had not only the dress, but the rest of the clean clothes folded.
He cooked, he cleaned, he did laundry...and he knew exactly how to kiss her, where to touch her, how to take her to the edge and then back over it again before she had a chance to recover from her first hit of pleasure.
“Let’s drop this off upstairs.” He picked up the blue basket as if she hadn’t been hinting with everything she had for that kiss. “And then we can head over to my place.”
Megan was a breath away from knocking the laundry basket from his hands and launching herself at him. But it was one thing if Gabe seduced her into letting him steal a kiss after midnight to celebrate the start of another year. It was another thing entirely if she was the one begging for his kisses.
Especially when nothing had changed. She still couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. And she certainly couldn’t let Summer get attached to him.
Loving a man like Gabe and then losing him...well, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to recover from that. No matter how strong her mother—and everyone else—always said she was.
Fortunately, the roof of his building was sure to be crowded with all the other residents out watching the fireworks. Because despite knowing better, Megan simply couldn’t trust herself to be strong when she was alone with Gabe.
They’d watch the bright lights in the sky, they’d press their lips together once in a crowd of revelers, and then she’d go home. To her own bed.
Alone, thank you very much.
Chapter Nineteen
Don’t psych yourself out.
~ from “Firefighting 101” ~
Thirty minutes later, Megan stepped out of the elevator into Gabe’s penthouse apartment in Potrero Hill and her mouth fell open. He slipped her coat from her shoulders, but she was so busy taking in the views from every window that she barely noticed.
“These views are incredible.” She turned to him. “How do you ever do anything but stare out the windows?”
“I thought you might like it,” he said as he moved across the room to stand beside her. “It’s usually clear like this in the winter, but in the summer—”
“—it must be like floating on a cloud of fog.”
He’d wanted to kiss her at least a hundred times since she’d opened her front door, and now, as she stood staring dreamily out his living room window, Gabe was working like hell to stick to his plan and keep his promise.
It was just that she looked so good in his house. So right. Despite the great bones of the building, the views and location, he’d always felt like something was missing.
Now he knew exactly what it was.
How different would it be if Megan and Summer lived here with him? If all that color from their small apartment were in here? If their clothes hung in the closets and Summer’s drawings were up on his fridge?
Knowing he was getting ahead of himself, that nothing past tonight’s fireworks was even settled, Gabe forced himself to take a step away from the only woman who had ever ripped his control to shreds.
“That omelet barely took the edge off,” he told her. “How does Thai food sound for dinner? There’s a great place around the corner that delivers.”
Her face lit up. “I love Thai.”
Jesus, he wasn’t just jealous of a dead man—now his envy extended to Thai food, too.
“Make yourself comfortable while I order one of everything.”
She laughed and said, “Sounds great,” but she never left the window the entire time he was on the phone. Gabe knew without a doubt just how much she must miss being up high enough to see out over the city as she had in the apartment that had burned down.
He hung up the phone and she was still so mesmerized by the lights of the city that she didn’t notice him put a couple of glasses of red wine on a nearby bookshelf.
A minute later he said, “Excuse me.”
Megan was clearly shocked to see him holding a large overstuffed chair over his head. “What are you doing with that?”
“Hoping to make you more comfortable,” he said as he slowly lowered it to the floor. And also, maybe showing off a bit, he had to admit to himself as her eyes traveled across his biceps, which were now bulging from lifting the heavy chair.
He reached for her hand. “Sit with me.”
“The chair isn’t big enough for the both of us,” she protested, but he already had her half on his lap and his arm around her waist.
“Feels like just the right size to me.”
God, he loved the way she smelled, like a field of blooming flowers topped off with a hint of sweet female arousal.
“Gabe, we shouldn’t—”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured against her ear, “I’m not going to break my promise.”
Did she know just how disappointed she looked as she turned her face away from his to look out the window once more? Gabe made sure to hide his grin from her as he reached over to the bookshelf for the wine and handed her a glass.
“Sullivan Winery’s finest.”
She took it from him and inhaled with pleasure. “In the interest of full disclosure, I feel that I should tell you I was already a fan of Marcus’s wines before we met.”