Chapter 3 #2
He slid his arm around her waist and eased her close, his hand resting on the small of her back.
“Forget it,” she said, slapping a hand on his chest.
He bent his head, his mouth a heartbeat away from hers.
“Why? It’s just a kiss, Gabrielle. Perfectly .
. . safe.” He tugged the banana clip out of her hair and slipped his hand into the thick brown waves.
Her eyes turned a deep jade green as alarm and another more carnal emotion filled them.
Desire. He’d kissed enough women to recognize that look in her eyes.
He smiled. Let her deny the attraction now. It simmered between them and tingled in the air. There was no way he’d believe she didn’t feel it too.
“That was a move tonight in the kitchen,” she said. Her voice had turned husky; it rippled along his skin and lingered like a caress.
Slowly, he shook his head. “No, that wasn’t a move.” He smiled again, and his own voice deepened. “This is a move.”
His mouth lowered until it just touched hers, sipping, nipping, cruising gently over her lips.
He felt her surprise in the way she relaxed and opened for him.
As he slipped his tongue inside, hers came out to touch his, tentatively at first and then growing bolder.
She tasted faintly of wine and warm, giving flavors.
Devlin stroked his hand up her back and deepened the kiss.
Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck.
Bewitched by the soft pressure of her mouth, he forgot he’d had an objective in mind when he kissed her.
A fist of need slammed hard into his belly as she heated to a blaze in his arms. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, withdrew, slid in again in a slow, primal rhythm.
She moaned and wrapped herself up in him, answering the motions of his tongue with hers.
A tiny portion of his mind told him to back off, that this woman was dangerous.
Then she nipped at his lower lip and pressed against him, her breasts crushed against his chest. She moaned again, a full, throaty sound that made him want to strip her out of her clothes and see what those long legs felt like wrapped around him.
Devlin tore his mouth from hers. If he hadn’t, he’d have had her flat on her back in another thirty seconds.
And while that had seemed like a great idea before he kissed her, he wasn’t so sure now.
A woman who went up in flames the minute he touched her and who blasted his self-control to smithereens with a kiss deserved to be handled with extreme caution.
She shoved hard at his chest. “Let go of me.”
Her voice was shaky, which didn’t gratify him as much as it might have, since he suspected his own voice might not be quite steady either. He released her and moved away, taking two mental steps backward as well. They stared at each other in silence.
It was just a kiss. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt like he’d been in a war zone. She looked like she had. Her mouth was red, her lips swollen from kissing him.
He wanted, quite badly, to kiss her again.
“I don’t get involved with my coworkers,” she said.
“Okay. We won’t get involved.” Mindless, fantastic sex sounded good to him.
Her eyes narrowed. “I mean it. Don’t kiss me again.”
Regaining some of his accustomed cool, he smiled at her. “Gabrielle, you know as well as I do that I’m going to do a lot more than kiss you.” His smile broadened. “But not tonight.” She looked like she wanted to throw something at him.
“You’d better have your back checked out, Counselor. Even the strongest will break under a two-ton load of ego.”
Ego, was it? He didn’t think so. “That kiss wasn’t all on one side.”
“Go away,” she said through gritted teeth. “Far away.”
“For now, I will.” But he’d be back. When he’d figured out how she blew his cool so easily.
She pointed at the door. He gathered his papers together and stuffed them in his briefcase, holding her gaze as he did so. He’d proved one thing anyway. She sure as hell wasn’t indifferent to him.
Devlin picked up his briefcase and strolled out, pausing in the doorway to give her a last wicked grin. “See you in court, Counselor.”
She barely missed his fingers when she slammed the door shut.
* * *
You are a fool, Gabrielle told herself as she sank onto the couch after Devlin left.
What in Hades was the matter with her? Her life was one step away from blowing up in her face.
Her arch rival was now her partner in the case that could wreck her career.
One whisper of her past, and Devlin Sinclair would use her back as a stepping stone in his quest for a partnership.
And what was she doing? she asked herself, viciously gathering her papers and slapping them into a pile. Trying to find a way out of the tightest spot she’d ever been in? Applying all her energies, her logical, legally trained, supposedly bright mind to saving her endangered butt?
No, she was thinking about sex. Hot, mind-blowing sex.
With Devlin Sinclair.
She had to be crazy. First of all, she barely knew him.
And she wasn’t the type to flip over a pretty face.
She’d learned that lesson well years before.
Tonight, though, she’d reached a new level of insanity.
The fact that she hadn’t been involved with a man in a long time was no excuse for her stupidity.
Still, it was just a kiss. No reason for her to turn herself inside out, even if it had been an incredible kiss. She would simply be very careful that he didn’t touch her again. Then this . . . urge would die a natural death. She hoped.
Gabrielle consoled herself with the knowledge that tonight she’d been especially vulnerable.
Her weakness had allowed a simple chemistry to get out of hand, to take on more importance than it merited.
Two glasses of wine were enough to lower her guard.
Added to that, she’d been in the midst of a flood of memories when she’d answered the door to him.
That smooth, good-looking devil had been a welcome diversion from memories she didn’t want to face.
Memories of Franco. She had to decide what to do about him. Damn the man, why did he have to show up now, after all these years of blessed peace? One word from him and her career was history. No reputable firm would have her if they knew the truth about her past.
Was Franco only after a good lawyer, like he’d said? Surely to God he didn’t still want her. The idea made her skin crawl. Shuddering, she tried to push Franco’s image from her mind, but the trap of memories yawned open its gaping jaws.
Fourteen years later she could still hear the voices. Past and present merged as she relived the scene in her mind.
“Your lover is gone,” Franco had told her. “Ten thousand dollars. He could have gotten more, you know, but then, I never thought your Ben was very bright.”
Money? He was saying Ben had taken a bribe? The blood drained from her face. “No. Ben loves me, I know he does. He wouldn’t do that.” But her heart beat double-time in her throat, her stomach surged with nausea. What if Franco was right?
Franco’s smug, evil smile said it all. “He took the money and ran. You’re mine now. Accept it, cara. We’ll be married in a few weeks.”
“I’d rather be dead,” she said, not knowing how close she would come to that exact thing.
And that last night, when Franco had come to her in a rage.
Gabrielle shook her head hard, trying to fling the shadows away.
No, she didn’t want to think of that. Couldn’t allow herself to think of what had happened—and had nearly happened—that night.
It was past and buried, and she would leave it there.
She could deal with Franco Sabatino, as long as she didn’t let the memories choke her.
She rose and walked to the piano. Dragging one finger across the keyboard, she wished she felt like playing. Sleep would be a long time coming. She could think about Franco and ruin or Devlin Sinclair and sex.
Sinclair won, hands down.