Chapter 9
NINE
Roxie sent him packing, using her minuscule shower as her excuse. Truly, she’d just needed to breathe. No, she hadn’t slept with Jake, because Jake had never turned her on to the point that she was a writhing, panting, incoherent mess of sensation—as she’d just been on her cold, hard floor. She couldn’t believe she’d let Gabe do all that boundary-breaking intimate stuff. Or that she’d done it to him first. Or that she’d liked it so much she was hot again already. But she was hanging onto this new-found audacity. This was fun—so long as she could keep it all within her control. And her flight instinct told her that meant maintaining some distance.
She pulled on some clothes and realized she was hungry for food. She snuck down the stairs to get some greens to add to her dinner. He was on the deck, sticking his knife into a giant steak. Masses of potatoes encircled it. He was clearly both carbo-loading and replenishing muscle. That would be useful—later—when she was ready to deal with him some more.
Gabe swallowed a smile at the dirty look she gave his dinner, but she said nothing. It amused him that she’d had no idea of what his name meant. It really was the reason so many of those dancers had set their sights on him rather than a rugby boy. His name—and family—was synonymous with farming wealth. So she was wrong about the sex-stud thing, and there were a few more things it wouldn’t do her any harm to learn about him. Except she didn’t seem to be interested in doing anything with him but the salacious. But he planned to change that.
‘Why not sit here to have your dinner?’ he asked casually. ‘You can’t sit at your table up there with all that furniture and crap crammed around it. Have it down here. I promise I won’t bite.’
It was more a dare than an invitation.
She didn’t answer immediately. Interesting how at ease she was with him when they were physical, and how uncomfortable she was at the thought of spending more simple, sex-free time with him. Was she actually shy ? That didn’t make sense when she’d been nothing but smart’n’sassy and strong from word go. Assertive beyond belief He thought about it more carefully—about how she’d hung on the edge of the group of dancers at the after-practice drinks, how she’d hidden in the dark instead of confiding to anyone about her nerves before the game, how she lived behind a giant hedge no one would be mad enough to fight through. Suddenly, the idea of her being shy made more sense than anything.
‘I’m nearly done anyway.’ He tried to make it easier for her.
She shrugged. ‘I have to get the rest of it.’
‘So go get it,’ he said, as if he didn’t care. Wished he didn’t care half as much as he feared he could.
Three minutes later she perched on the edge of the seat opposite his, her plate full of rabbit food. No wonder she was so slim. He kept the conversation light. Stadium-related stories mostly, until she warmed up and laughed. Until she started talking back. Topping some of his tales with mad-old-lady shopping tales of her own. Turned out her day job was at the gift store at the corner shops, a store no one from their generation would ordinarily enter. He couldn’t understand why she worked there—if she wanted to work in retail, why not some high-dollar fashion place? She had the physique to wear those expensive, slinky numbers and have all the customers desperate to look just like her. That was just one of several things he was biding his time to ask her. But for now, he just talked—nothing too personal or too heavy, but enough to entertain and keep her there until it was late and dark and the bedroom beckoned.
In his big bed in her old room, Roxie stretched. It really was time for her to slope across the garden and curl up on her own hard, narrow stretcher that reminded her of reality. But Gabe’s big arms encircled her. He lifted her, repositioning her so his chest was her pillow, his hand worked through her hair and he rubbed the base of her skull. She let it happen—it felt too good to pull from. Just a few more minutes. No harm would come from that little bit of closeness—right?
‘Why haven’t you gone travelling sooner?’ he asked lazily.
‘I needed to get this place ready.’ The repairs after the earthquake that had devasted the city a few years ago had cost money that had taken her a long time to earn.
‘But you’ve never got round to trimming the hedge?’
She laughed gently. ‘No. At first it was just because I was too busy to get to it. Then I noticed it kept people out. I liked that, keeping my privacy.’
She felt the vibrations in his chest as he chuckled with her—it made for a wonderfully relaxing kind of massage.
‘So what are you going to do once the champagne runs out?’ he asked. ‘Is there a new list or are you just going to travel indefinitely?’
She breathed in deep and sighed as she answered. ‘There’s a new list. I’ll have to find some champagne over there.’ There had to be a new list—her life would just be beginning over there, right? The start of her freedom.
‘Where’s there? What’s first on the list?’
She smiled up at the ceiling as she thought about it. ‘You’re going to think it’s lame.’
‘No, I won’t.’
Oh, he so would.
‘I want to go to the ballet in London.’
‘The ballet? That’s number one?’
She chuckled. Yeah, he wasn’t that wowed. ‘Don’t knock it. I studied for thirteen years, started when I was three. I’ve been dreaming of going there forever.’
‘If you loved it so much why’d you give up?’ He firmly slid his hand down her back, pulled her lax body even closer. ‘You couldn’t afford classes anymore?’
‘Actually my teacher offered to waive the fees, but it was the time more than the money. There were other things I had to do.’ Her grandmother had just had the stroke; her grandfather had needed help caring for her.
There was a small silence, as if he was waiting for her to say something more. Which she didn’t.
‘So the ballet—in London?’ he finally prompted—with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
‘Yeah, the Royal Ballet at Covent Garden. To see one of the classics. Not your thing, huh?’
She felt his laughter again. ‘All those blokes leaping about in tights and no one saying anything? Nah.’
She nudged his thigh with her knee and teased. ‘I knew you were going to comment about the tights. Why do guys always feel so threatened by them? Hell, the rugby players wear almost as little—their shirts are skintight.’
‘Well, it’s not just the men I’m not so keen on. All the girls are bony. They’ve got no shape, no boobs, where’s the attraction in watching them? They’re not exactly sexy.’
Roxie sat up indignantly and twisted to see his face in the moonlight. ‘You don’t like skinny dancers? Then why have you dated so many?’
‘Not that many.’ He went on instant defense. ‘And I didn’t date them because they were dancers—it was just that they were who I happened to meet.’
Oh, so it was a circumstantial thing, not that dancer girls were his ‘type’? She was fairly surprised—and surprisingly miffed. ‘So you don’t like the ballerina body?’
He paused, a grin suddenly flaring, and he reached up to pull her back to him. ‘I think you know how I feel about your body, Roxie.’
Yeah, that wasn’t good enough. She resisted his tug closer and waited, fingers tapping on his chest.
‘It’s not just beautiful.’ His grin widened as he unashamedly back-pedaled. ‘It’s the way you move. You know what you’re doing, but it’s like its unconscious at the same time. Total natural grace and not like anyone else I’ve met. Ever.’
‘You need to keep the compliments coming because I’m still feeling insecure about the no-boobs bit.’
He laughed harder; she felt his body harden too. ‘You do great in that department.’
‘With my booster bra.’
‘I like them best with no bra, as well you know.’ He slid a broad, warm palm up over her stomach, towards her ribcage, as if to prove it. ‘In fact, you’d be fantastic at burlesque,’ he teased. ‘You know, with those nipple tassels?’
‘Oh, you would know all about nipple tassels,’ she huffed, twisting away to leave him.
Except he grabbed her so she couldn’t, pulling her back and rolling so he had her pinned, oh, so pleasurably. Admittedly she didn’t put up too much of a fight.
‘You want to dance full time?’ His mouth hovered above where he wanted those damn tassels.
‘When I was a kid I did,’ she answered breathlessly, getting distracted by what his tongue was now doing. ‘Reality is, not many people can make a viable living as a dancer. Even if you can it’s not for long—you’re arthritic at thirty. That’s why scoring the gig with the Blades was such a thrill—even for just a short time I’m a pro.’
‘You shouldn’t settle for only a short time. Why not go the whole hog?’
‘It’s too late for classical,’ she moaned. ‘I’m over the hill already.’
His grunt of laughter was muffled against her breast and his fingers teased further south. ‘There are other forms of dance.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Gabe,’ she panted. ‘But I don’t think burlesque is for me.’
He flexed, teasing her more exquisitely. ‘You could teach or make up the Blades’ routines or have your own shop—you like retail, right? Why not dance gear?’
She actually quite liked that idea. Having a retail space with a studio above it to teach or something. ‘I used to love going to the ballet shop and looking at the costumes.’
‘You love a costume, Roxie?’
‘You bet I do.’ Yeah, she had a soft spot for sequins and Lycra.
‘Well, I really think you should try the tassels.’ His voice deepened with laughter as she wriggled against him.
She muttered an adjective so colorful he instantly reared up and took her hard.
She had no idea how much later it was when he lifted her back with her head resting on his shoulder. All she knew was that she was utterly relaxed and bone-deep exhausted. She closed her eyes, her own breathing falling into sync with the deep, regular rise and fall of his broad chest. So very vaguely the thought pinched—she really ought to go back to her own place. But she was so tired. And so warm. And she’d never been held like this by anyone... so finding the energy to leave this haven was going to take a few minutes.
‘You miss your grandparents?’ he asked softly, gently rubbing her shoulders with the tips of his fingers in light, slow circles.
The question was so out of the blue she answered without even thinking about it. ‘Every day.’
‘And you’ve never tried to track down your father?’
That brought her back from the brink of sleep, but his fingers kept up the rhythmic kneading. She sighed—so damn tired and, while he was soothing, he was also holding her in an embrace she’d have to push hard to break free of. So she just gave in and told the truth. ‘No information to go on,’ she murmured, her eyelids drooping.
Time drifted and she floated deeper into the warm, velvety darkness. She felt so comfortable it had to be a dream... and, yeah, she wasn’t sure if she really heard the next question or not.
‘You really know nothing?’
‘There’s no one left to ask, nothing in the papers.’ As she slipped into that half-sleep state the futility was the last thing she remembered. ‘Day after I was born she left for the UK and never came back. Asked Grandies a couple of times but I didn’t want to hurt them. They were my parents.’ For years she hadn’t pushed it because she’d known it had distressed them. ‘They always told me the same story—Mum was young and hadn’t wanted to be tied down. She’d had an affair but didn’t want an abortion, but didn’t want to be an involved mother either. They wanted to keep me in the family. So I never went off the straight and narrow ’cos I knew how much Mum’s mess hurt them. And me. So I was a total good-girl. Almost. Dated Jake. But did nothing that would devastate them if they ever found out. But he didn’t understand why I never went out for a drink or clubbing. Never stayed out late, never swore. Never did any normal teenage rebel things. Grandma got sick and needed me.’
She burrowed deeper into the warmth, seeking to escape. But her mind skittered through the memories relentlessly. She’d grown up in ways her more experienced friends hadn’t. And those friends had been too busy with their own parties and teen issues to deal with her own somber ones. She’d learned not to talk about her life at home—too much of a downer. Too unrelatable. And it was easier not to talk because she could hardly bear to face it herself—the inevitable loss that had loomed. First one, then the other. Until she was left alone.
‘They were older parents when they had Mum and she’d been headstrong and willful. I couldn’t do that to them too. But now they’re gone and I can do whatever.’ She was answerable only to herself—free. While she didn’t resent a minute of her life up to now, now was her time. Maybe that was what she’d inherited from her mother—that need never to be tied down. ‘I always wonder why she didn’t want me. Why did she leave me and go overseas if there wasn’t something that hurt her to even look at me?’
The high-pitched, harsh question woke Roxie. She swallowed and felt the roughness in her throat. That was when she realized it had been her talking. And she was being held in a tighter-than-tight embrace. She was awake—and, even worse, he was awake and she’d just been spilling all this stuff aloud and she’d never said it to anyone. Eyes flashing wide open, she froze in position, her skin goose bumping, her heart hardening. Oh, hell, this had been dumb. She couldn’t let the happy-after- orgasm hormones confuse her into thinking there was intimacy here. And she most certainly didn’t want him feeling sorry for her or thinking she was some kind of stuffed-up, incapable, needy person. She was totally capable—and totally embarrassed. All her internal alarms clanged—way past time to go back to the garage and get this non-relationship back to its clearly delineated fun-only status.
But she had to make her exit smooth and unpanicked-like. As if she hadn’t just confessed some of her innermost turmoil or anything. She pressed a couple of kisses to his shoulder and slipped out when his hold eased the tiniest amount. Then desperately tried to think of something completely safe to discuss. Glancing out of the window at the dark shadows of the garden outside, she landed on it.
‘Do you mind if I use your kitchen to make some things with the tomato glut?’ she asked as she felt on the floor for her clothes. Because the last thing she wanted him thinking was that she was trying to move in on his space by stealth. ‘I’ll do it when you’re at work.’
‘Course I don’t mind.’ Gabe minded that she felt she had to ask.
Damn, for a few minutes there he’d thought he’d been busting through her reserve—which was more prickly than that damn hedge outside. But obviously not, given she was now asking permission for the simplest of things, given she’d suddenly stiffened as if she hadn’t realized what she’d been saying, given her voice had gone from sleepy-slurred to shrill and given how quickly she was escaping from him now.
‘It’s just that my kitchen’s not big enough.’
He made a deal of pulling up the duvet to stop himself glaring at her. She even felt as if she had to explain?
‘You don’t have a kitchen.’ He couldn’t resist the dig. She had a gas ring, a microwave and a fridge half full of champagne.
She merely smiled and waved as she left.
Gabe slumped lower in bed and tried to kick away the disappointment and dissatisfaction. He had absolutely no fear of Roxie walking in and taking over his home a la Diana. If it weren’t for the scent of her lingering on his sheets, there’d be no clue that she’d been there with him at all. And now, not for the first time, he wished she’d stay in the house with him. He’d even had the mad thought of doing something to the garage so she’d have to move in. Because those rickety stairs made him shudder. So did her isolation.
When he got back from the stadium one afternoon a few days later, it was to find the windows open and the relentless beat of dance music vibrating through the hedge. He rubbed his knuckles over his chest—first time in his life he felt his heart literally lift.
The Knights had had another home game. Roxie had danced, he’d doctored. They hadn’t attended the after-match celebrations. They’d gone home and had one of their own. Every night since they’d had separate dinners together on the deck. He’d engaged her in more—easy—conversation, even managed to get her to watch movies with him. The first night he’d had to surrender to her choice of those awful dance flicks—but it had been worth it when she gave him her own demo of the theme moves. Now they alternated—dance flicks, then thrillers. Gabe was pleased about it. He didn’t like to think of her being in that tiny studio alone—no reason why they couldn’t hang out together a bit. Still easy, right?
She was in his kitchen—looking more Roxanna than Roxie with her hair pulled back into a braid, not a skerrick of make-up, and swamped in an apron. But then she saw him—and there was a flutter of eyelids and a flash of blue that was pure Roxie.
He strode over—it smelt good. ‘Let me try it.’
She pulled a spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the oversized pot that scarily resembled a witch’s cauldron.
‘Mmm.’ Impossibly, it tasted better than it smelt.
‘No salt, no egg, no dairy, no oil, no gluten, no meat?—’
‘No fun,’ he inserted.
‘You liked it before you knew all that.’ She turned a cold eye on him.
‘True.’
‘And all organic, no GM ingredients.’
‘I am truly impressed.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘Honest,’ he surrendered with a laugh. ‘It’s amazing.’
She nodded, satisfied. ‘I make a mean salsa.’
He hadn’t been talking about the sauce. But he leaned back and watched her work, listened, more interested than he’d thought he’d be as she went on about the nutritional value of the ingredients.
‘How do you know all this?’ he finally interrupted the never-ending flow of facts as she poured ladlefuls into the masses of sterilized jars that waited on the table.
‘I did lots of research about cancer-fighting superfoods and stuff. Tomatoes are up there.’
‘Was your grandfather sick for a while?’ Gabe held his breath as he waited for her answer. It was the first directly personal question he’d asked since that night when she’d sleepily muttered too few secrets.
She nodded briefly, her mouth closing, and she got very busy filling the jars. Totally shutting that topic of conversation down again. He tried not to frown, went for the obvious distraction instead.
‘What do you want?’ That flash of blue again from under the fluttering lashes.
‘Payment for letting you use the kitchen,’ he said in his worst lecherous-landlord tone.
‘What kind of payment?’ She smiled but he also saw the spark.
It was so easy to excite her. But so damn hard to open her up in other ways.
‘Three bottles of that sauce.’ He watched, his body helplessly winching harder when he saw the hint of disappointment in her eyes. He just couldn’t resist. ‘And...’
‘And?’ Her mouth tilted.
Gabe slapped a booklet on the table in front of her after dinner. ‘Ever seen this?’
Roxie read the title. And frowned.
‘It’s the road code,’ he drawled. ‘And you need to study it, because you’re going for your theory test tomorrow.’
‘Am not.’
‘Are too. Or else.’
She narrowed in on his naughty vibe. ‘Else what?’
‘We won’t be checking any more items off your list.’
She gasped at his ‘I mean it’ expression. ‘You’re bluffing.’
He sat back, patted his lap for her as if she should come sit astride it. ‘Come try and tempt me.’
The heat began to rise upwards, her chest, her neck, her face. But she wasn’t going to let him tease her into saying yes to his bossiness. ‘Don’t need to. I can figure some fun for myself.’
‘Think you’ll find going solo isn’t nearly so sweet now, Roxie,’ he taunted.
She swiped up the damn book and opened it on a random page. Just so she could bury her burning face in it. Because she knew he was so right.
‘You can do the practical in my car if you like.’ He resumed the conversation as if he knew full well she wasn’t concentrating on the printed words. ‘Might be easier? I can get you covered on the insurance.’
Ugh, insurance. She hated that word. ‘Thanks, but no, I couldn’t.’
‘You’re too scared to drive something that actually goes fast?’
‘I think you know I’m not afraid of fast.’ She shot him a look over the boring rule book.
‘Everything comes back to sex with you, doesn’t it?’
‘Are you complaining? ’ she mocked, tossing the road code aside. ‘We are sex, Gabe. We’re a shag team.’ But she wasn’t being completely honest—not even to herself. She got up from the table quickly. ‘I’ve got the most awesome dance flick ever for tonight.’
‘Oh, I can’t wait.’ Gabe didn’t sound any less sarcastic than he had a moment before.
But the opening theme had barely started when his phone beeped. He glanced at the message and groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’ She pressed pause on the remote, the opening number wasn’t one to be missed.
He was studying the screen intently, scrolling through some lengthy missive. ‘One of the boys has gotten into trouble. Cheating while on summer tour. Pretty sordid too, going to be all over the front pages tomorrow.’ He shook his head and tossed his phone to the floor. ‘This is why they shouldn’t get married. Commitment doesn’t work with this lifestyle.’
Roxie giggled. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely.’ He met her smile with censure in his dark eyes. ‘The pressure these guys are under? They’re away so often. There’s all that adrenalin—they need a release. Distance relationships never work and in this business there are even more factors to make marriages fail.’
Roxie gaped at his earnest expression. ‘You call this lifestyle working with a distance relationship?’ she mocked. ‘Gabe, you’re not talking being away months or even weeks at a time. You’re talking days .’
‘You don’t understand the temptation they face.’
‘Oh, please. Temptation passes on the street every day. The number of women who give you that look. ’ She shook her head. She’d seen it so many times at the stadium. ‘The guys who give into temptation on a short trip like that would give into it at home just as quick if the opportunity arose,’ she said bluntly. ‘It’s not the lifestyle that’s the problem, it’s that the guy doesn’t know how to keep his zipper up.’ She chuckled again. ‘I mean, really, Gabe, you’re away for what, a week at most?’
‘When we go on tours it’s weeks at a time,’ he said defensively.
‘Oh, come on, it’s a big fat excuse and you know it.’ She leaned closer, getting into the stride of her argument now. ‘ You don’t want to give up your freedom in case something better swings along. That’s okay, you don’t have to. Just don’t try to hide behind your job as some lame excuse for being unable to make a commitment. If you wanted to, you would. But you don’t want to.’
That was right. He didn’t. Gabe was stunned with how she had him pegged. And that she’d just shot him down with a couple of snappy sentences. Yes, he liked the convenience of the short-term fling—and the out-of- town bender was even better. No mess in his backyard. ‘Okay, you’re right. It took a lot to get my freedom and, no, I won’t give that up for anyone. I’m not willing to compromise on the most important things in my life.’ That was still his view, right?
She nodded, apparently all understanding now. ‘I know exactly how you feel. I don’t regret any of the time in the last few years. I’d still be doing it if I could. But now? I want my time. I want my freedom. I don’t want anybody holding me back.’ She grinned impishly.
Strangely, even though she was now agreeing with him, Gabe didn’t feel any better. ‘So you’re really serious about the no-marriage-and-kids thing?’
‘I think I take after my mother,’ she said, settling more comfortably on the sofa. ‘She didn’t want me despite going ahead to have me. I’m not doing that to anyone. I’m never having any in the first place.’
‘No permanent man either?’ He had no idea why his pulse had just picked up.
She shook her head. ‘Playmate every now and then. That’s the way forward.’
She was quoting his own philosophy but it sounded so wrong coming from her mouth. He didn’t like her turning her back on the idea of being with someone for good. She should be cherished and treasured and adored—the prize, the heart, of some guy’s life. And any guy who even thought of straying from Roxie would need his head read. Who’d ever want to give her up?
Gabe really needed to bury this line of thought—it was weird. He pressed the pause button on the remote she still held so the movie started running again. But a dance flick was hardly the kind of movie to completely absorb him, so those damn thoughts kept circling. Had he been hanging back from doing anything more with any of his exes in case someone better came along? Surely not, he’d just thought he had it sussed. Even after the Diana debacle he’d merely figured all he had to do was fling it with the right kind of woman. But Roxie wasn’t that kind. In fact he now wondered whether that kind of woman even existed.
Yet here Roxie was basically trying to walk in his foolish footsteps. That just didn’t sit right with him.
Damn it, none of this was right.