Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
T hat stupid tug she kept feeling yanked at her heart when Gabe pulled away first, and she shivered despite the circle of his arms around her shoulders and his cheek resting on her head. When she breathed in more of his scent, it fuzzed her brain. Well, that and the things he’d done with his tongue. She squirmed, warmth pooling between her legs. If she’d gotten that turned on by a kiss, what would happen when his hands were on her? Because she and her Mercedes already knew he was great with his hands.
“Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” she asked, her words slurry.
“What?” He sounded a little drugged, too.
“A guy like you, all work and business, shouldn’t have had time to learn to kiss like Zac Efron.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. We’re talking about you.”
“Oh.” He started rubbing her back again, which made her full-body shudder. “Beach Island. I worked there every summer from the time I was thirteen. There were lots of other high school and college kids who worked there. It was like a soap opera with all the relationships that formed. I’d date a girl for a few weeks, and then she’d move on to the next guy.”
“I bet being an Armstrong made you a hot property.” Had he been this big and burly as a teenager? Teenage Sunny would’ve swooned.
“Nah. I worked every job, from concessions to ride operation to janitorial, and I was treated the same as any other employee. Pretty soon, they all saw me as one of the gang.”
She ran her lips up his neck to his jaw. “Ever date a guest?”
“No. My parents might’ve been free spirits, but there was a strict no-fraternization policy with park guests. Though there was a girl or two who slipped me her number, and I called them later.”
“Huh. I wouldn’t have thought you were such a playboy.”
“Playboy?” He shook his head. “I was very committed to each and every girl. Exclusively. But we were kids, so our relationships ran their course pretty quickly.”
Perfect. After today, they had another three days on the road, barring any other delays. They’d be just like those high-school relationships, full of fiery passion—and what he’d do with those hands—compacted into a short time together. And then Sunny would go on her way before either of them developed any dangerous feelings that might lead them down a path of folly like her parents.
“Their loss,” she said between kisses on his jaw. She kissed her way back to his lips and turned the kiss dirty, sucking his lip between hers before plunging her tongue into his mouth. She buried her hands in his thick hair, holding him to her. He gripped the back of her sweater but didn’t lift it. God, why didn’t he lift it? She needed his touch everywhere. She squirmed on the mattress, chasing the friction of her own jeans.
This time, when he pulled back, he gasped for air. “Sunny, I… Should we be doing this?”
“What else are we going to do? We’re snowed in here with all these condoms.” She burrowed between his neck and his shoulder and nipped him gently.
Just as gently, he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back. There was a line between his thick eyebrows. “That’s not who I am now, Sunny. Even when I was just a kid flirting with girls at the snow cone stand, I was looking for forever, like my parents had. Like my grandparents. But this—this isn’t forever, is it?”
The F-word gave her a pang right between the ribs. “There’s no such thing as forever, Gabe. I should know. Relationships are like roles. You play them for a while, and then you move on. Otherwise, you’re famous for having a terrible marriage.”
He still had his hands on his shoulders like she was the one who needed comfort. “Are your parents divorced now?”
She laughed, sharp and bitter. “No. They’ve been married for twenty-eight years. But living separate lives for more than twenty of them. They figured they could get more mileage out of being married than divorced. It’s like a partnership. It’s not uncommon in LA.”
“My parents worked together and loved each other until the day they died. They had a business and a family.” His grip on her shoulders had gone tight.
She shrugged, and his hold loosened. “That’s not how it works in Hollywood. No one wants to cast a woman as a love interest when the tabloids are speculating about her baby bump. And in LA, all you have to do is eat an extra taco before they take a grainy photo, circle your stomach, and draw a big arrow with the word baby next to it.”
He smoothed her hair away from her face. “That sounds terrible.”
She traced a garish blue rose on the bedspread. “It’s what I signed up for.”
“Still, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Besides, I’m terrible at relationships. Don’t forget what I did to Cade.”
“That wasn’t?—”
But she remembered what he’d shared that night at the diner. “Did you love Riley? When you proposed?” Why had she asked that? And why did it feel like she was pouring acid on her own heart? Coffee and noodles for breakfast had been a bad idea.
He was silent for a moment. “I liked her. It hurt when she left. But she was right. I wasn’t ready to marry her.”
Her heartburn eased. Why were they even talking about marriage? Sunny and Gabe weren’t even really fake-married. They were just sharing a room during a storm. She unclenched her jaw enough to say, “Marriage isn’t for me. I’d much rather enjoy life without all that nonsense getting in the way.”
“You mean love? Fidelity?” The line in his forehead deepened.
“Monogamy is fine. An end date is better.” Like a limited-engagement theater run. Everyone went in knowing exactly when it would be over. No one was hoping it’d be the next Phantom of the Opera, so no one could fail.
He lifted his hand from her hair and set it on the bed. “An end date.”
She missed his touch. “That’s why this is perfect. We’ll have fun until we get to Vegas. No time to develop feelings. No promises to break.” No way to fail. She ran her hands down his chest, following the contours of the hard muscle underneath.
He captured her roaming hands and pinned them to his chest. He stared at the window, but Sunny didn’t think he saw the snow swirling in the twilight. “I think it might be too late. For the feelings.”
“Oh, Gabe.” Her lady parts were still on board, wet and swollen and needy, but her brain switched to platonic mode, like it had whenever she’d kissed Curt Suede on the show. Feelings. Ugh.
She scooted away from him, dragging the blankets with her. She needed them now that the cool air of the motel room came between them. Gabe was right; he was like her personal space heater. No, not hers.
“Do we have any of those donuts left?” she asked. She slid off the bed and dug into the grocery sack. Pawing past the box of condoms— won’t be needing those, now —she pulled out the carton of donuts. “Want one?”
“Sunny, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? Nope.” But the high pitch of her voice betrayed her.
“And you don’t…you don’t feel anything for me?” He looked down at his big hands where they rested on the bedspread. The tips of his ears were pink.
Shit, now they were stuck together for the next who-knew-how-many days, and he’d developed feelings. She shoved a donut into her mouth and spoke around it. “Sorry. That’s not how I roll.”
“Oh.” He looked at his watch again. She could’ve won an Emmy if she could’ve infused her voice with that much sadness.
She swallowed the donut. “It’s not you. You’re a great guy. You’ll make someone very happy.” She had to shove that word out between her teeth. She refused to think about why anger rose hot inside her when she thought about Gabe making some other woman happy. Instead, she ground down her emotions like a cigarette under her heel. “You’ll have lots of big, handsome babies. But that’s not for me.”
She wished she could’ve walked out, given him some space to realize he’d confused arousal with emotions, but the snowflakes still flew thick outside. Instead, she tossed the box of donuts on the bed in front of him and grabbed the TV remote, which was attached to the wall with Velcro.
“What do you like to watch?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Sunny flipped through the channels, trying to get a feel for the offerings in this out-of-the-way spot. But her attention snagged on a familiar-looking set. It was too early for New York Bomb Squad to be on, but it was a promo for the show. Which episode were they playing this week?
“Wait, is that you?” Gabe asked.
Sunny’s face had flashed by. Now she knew the episode. It was the one where Curt Suede slept with Sunny’s character for the first time after they’d solved a particularly grueling case.
“Yeah.”
“You were on that show? Even I’ve heard of New York Bomb Squad .”
“Yeah. Just for a few episodes after this one.” Her stomach twisted when she remembered how her joy had turned to fury at that last table read.
“What happened?”
“I, ah. I don’t want to spoil it for you.” She grimaced. “We’ll just say my character doesn’t survive this season.”
“Sorry.”
“Me, too. I was a little…surprised. I didn’t react well.”
“Oh?”
Why was she even telling him this? She hadn’t told anyone except for Cata, who’d turned on her psychologist mode and pulled it out of her. Maybe Gabe had taken psychology, too. “Yeah. My character had just gotten engaged to one of the leads on the show. I thought I was going to be a series regular. But my friend, they were going to kill off her character in the next episode.”
She gave the TV a bitter smile, remembering the chill that’d raced through her at the table read. The twist in her gut from Odile’s red eyes. “I threw a bit of a tantrum. Walked out on the director. You know, diva shit.”
He didn’t touch her this time. He was probably appalled. Hell, she was appalled at herself.
“You were defending your friend.”
Was she? Or was she defending the bit of herself she saw in her friend? She shrugged.
“What happened then?”
She blinked. “They fired me on the spot. Had the terrorists blow me up with a car bomb instead. They didn’t even need me to film it. They used some cut scenes.” She felt the familiar dig between her ribs.
“I’m sorry.”
She sucked in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Nothing’s forever in television. Well, except Meet the Press. At least in the end, Odile got to keep her job.”
He stared at the screen. “You looked—different.”
“The show was supposed to have that gritty feeling. They used a lot of blue filters.”
“I mean…unhappy. Not like you are when you’re singing in the car.”
She tried to remember acting on the show. Everything had been so serious. She guessed she had, too. “It was work. Not fun. Singing is fun.”
“It is when you do it.”
That warmed her up almost as much as sitting next to Gabe had.
“Come here,” he said. “Now I’m cold.”
He scooted back to lean against the headboard, and she settled next to him. He put his arm around her, and she arranged the blankets over them both. She flipped until she found an episode of her favorite baking show. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect,” he said into her hair.