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‘There are no other family members.’ Etta’s voice was flat, clipped with sadness. ‘Which is fine, because I will keep Cathy safe.’
‘The best way to do that is to deal with Tommy.’
A small sigh escaped her lips and for a heartbeat vulnerability gleamed in the brown depths of her eyes, as if the idea of dealing with Tommy scared her.
‘Whilst I keep you safe.’
Once again her fingers drummed on the countertop. ‘I could ask Steph if she would take Cathy. And Martha, of course. The girls are at college together. I’ve explained the situation to the head and he is all right with me taking Cathy out as long as she takes some work with her. Martha could do the same. Steph is a self-employed illustrator, so she may be able to take work with her...’ Etta shook her head. ‘So
rry. I’m thinking out loud here.’
‘That’s fine with me.’
‘I’ll talk to Cathy first, and then Steph. If they agree I’ll research your family tree and in return you will pay me and act as my bodyguard whilst I figure out how to deal with Tommy.’
‘And we’ll go along with the press angle of a romance between us.’
When he’d seen the article that morning his first thought had been that he’d better warn Etta. His next had been to consider whether this development might be utilised to his advantage. His and Etta’s. After all, an alliance only worked if it benefited both parties.
‘It works for us both.’
‘How do you figure that?’ Her voice held a certain fascinated curiosity.
‘If the press believes we’re dating it takes the spotlight away from you researching the new family tree. No one need even know that I am hiring you.’ Nor start to dig into my motivation for doing so.
Besides, if his father got wind of his supposed ‘surprise gift’ he’d know something was off—neither the Duke nor Duchess had any interest in the family tree except in that it showed the unbroken direct line that he was about to snap with heart-rending finality.
‘That hardly works for me. If I am working for you then I want recognition for that.’
‘And you can have that recognition. In spades and shovels and pitchforks. After Christmas.’
‘A fat lot of good it will do me then. By then my professional reputation will be in ruins. It will look as though you hired me because I was sleeping with you.’
A pause stretched into a silence and for a second Gabe knew with bone-deep certainty that their minds had tracked the same path to an image of silken sheets and bare skin, of touch and taste and...
‘Supposedly,’ Etta said, her voice a touch breathy. ‘Supposedly sleeping with you.’
‘Not when they see your credentials and the results you provide. No one will blame you for mixing business and pleasure—you can spin the whole girlfriend deal into positive publicity. This is an opportunity.’ One that any woman he had ever dated had always taken advantage of—a chance to glean celebrity coverage and rich pickings.
Her mouth opened in a circle of outrage. ‘So you see this as a deal-sweetener?’
Gabe shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘Not for me. I’d rather earn positive publicity through my work. So thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll do your family tree. But I won’t be your girlfriend. Fake or otherwise.’ Her chin tilted in challenge. ‘Take it or leave it.’
There was no quarter in her words and a hint of chagrin touched his nerves...along with a small burn of surprise. Not that it mattered. The most important objective had been achieved and he was a step closer to finding a future Derwent heir.
‘I’ll take it. We can tell the press I’m hiring you as a consultant for the Christmas Fair.’ Yet her continued refusal to acknowledge their attraction prompted his vocal chords. ‘But any time you change your mind and want to be my girlfriend—fake or otherwise—let me know. We can play this any way you want. It’s up to you.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘ANY TIME YOU change your mind and want to be my girlfriend—fake or otherwise—let me know.’
The words, uttered in tones of molten chocolate, buzzed around Etta’s brain and demolished each and every brain cell in their path.
Their whole conversation, with its undertone of awareness, had sent her body into overdrive. Her whole being tingled, sparkled, as sensations tap-danced on her skin.
Get a grip. Of some form of sanity.
