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Gabe had been right. This home he’d found on the Connecticut coastline was the perfect place to escape the world.
She stood, turning to head back toward Gabe’s. Twenty yards down the shore, she could make him out standing and waiting for her. She smiled. Had he been there the whole time, watching over her?
It took her a few minutes to meet up with him and when they did, he turned and fell into step beside her.
The silence between them was comfortable and PJ walked by his side for several minutes before saying anything.
“Are you my bodyguard for the week?” She asked. She’d given her real bodyguards the week off, though they were staying in a nearby hotel so they could meet her at a moment’s notice if she needed them back on duty.
Gabe brushed her shoulder with his, the connection sparking warmth in her chest.
“Just wanted to be sure you weren’t out here alone if anyone recognized you.”
She knew how quickly a crowd could converge on her if that did happen. It was rarely one or two people saying hello. It might start like that, but as soon as one person asked for a selfie with her, others would notice and things could get out of hand before she had time to make it back to Gabe’s.
“Thank you,” she said. “I was thinking I could cook for you tonight.”
Gabe raised a brow at her? “Yeah?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can cook. I mean, it’s not going to be anything gourmet, but I can make pasta or something.”
The amusement in his eyes was a little too clear, but he nodded. “Deal. But feel free to put me to work chopping or making meatballs or whatever you need.”
Why did the image of them cooking side-by-side together make her stomach flip over?
Because there was something so normal in that. She realized, then, that’s partly what had made these couple of days so great. The normality of it all. Eating on the couch while they watched T.V., waking up in a bed that wasn’t in a hotel suite, not having a team of people around her to let her know where she needed to be next or who was waiting for an interview.
She would miss this.
“Meatballs, huh? If you make homemade meatballs, that’s totally going to put my pasta and sauce from a jar to shame.”
When Gabe caught her hand in his and held it as they walked, it felt natural. Natural and so damned good. Warm and comforting as their palms aligned and they came over the last dune near the gate to his backyard.
“I promise to ooh and ah over your sauce from a jar.”
Laughter filled her as she shook her head. “I do make a mean garlic bread if you have any Italian bread.”
“No Italian bread, but I think there are some dinner rolls in the freezer. Would those work?”
“As long as I can smear it with way too much butter and sprinkle it with garlic, it’ll work.”
He held the gate for her and PJ soaked in the night and wished she had more than a week here in this secret hideaway from the world and all her problems. Just a little longer before she had to face reality.
Chapter 8
PJ woke slowly, blinking back the light that streamed in through the gauzy white curtains hanging over the patio doors. Clearing her head of the dream that woke her wasn’t easy. Her hand went to her mouth where she could almost feel Gabe’s mouth on hers as it had been in her dream.
Last night, they’d eaten dinner without the kiss that had accompanied their burgers the night before. Still, that didn’t mean her mind was any further from it than it had been.
She could taste him. Feel him as he had gripped her tight and slanted his mouth over hers, tangling his tongue with hers, taking what he wanted. Giving her what she needed.
She shook off the remnants of the dream and looked around the room as the events of the last few days came back to her. Not the kiss with Gabe, but all the rest of it.
The journal, the Kurt interview. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers up over her face. What she wouldn’t give to wind back the clock. Except for the kiss…
She felt absolutely wrecked. Never mind the emotional toll of everything that had been happening. There was the fact she and Gabe had stayed up talking all Thursday night. She’d then had a short nap on the plane, but that was hardly enough to catch her up.
Last night, she’d gone to bed early, only to toss and turn the whole night, imagining what Gabe Sawyer could have done with those hands and that mouth, that tongue, if he hadn’t put the brakes on that kiss.
