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The maleness of him set her alight. His hand was tight in her hair. His face was serious, his blue eyes blazing with a light that she could feel inside.
‘I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you—’
She felt his mouth on her throat, as if he needed her pulse to live, and she held him tight, wondering what it would take for that to be true.
Then he lifted his head, shifting his weight so that they were side by side.
‘How would you feel about going to New York?’ he asked. He stroked her tangled blonde hair away from her face. ‘I’m supposed to be going to a dinner there on Friday—some charity event. I was going to cancel and just send in a donation, but why don’t you come with me?’
‘To New York?’
‘Why not? We don’t actually have to go to the event. We could just go out on our own,’ he said softly. ‘Have dinner...see a show.’
She stared at him, mesmerised by the softness in his eyes, terrified by the longing that had sneaked into her heart at his suggestion.
‘Does that make me your date?’ She gave a mock frown. ‘Only I thought I was a distraction.’
‘Can’t you be both?’
She felt the press of his erection against her stomach, hard where she was soft, and instantly forgot the question.
‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly.
‘But I do—and the answer is yes, you can. So come with me,’ he said again. ‘If you need an excuse for Alistair we could always drop in at my office. I can show you around. After you’ve finished distracting me,’ he added.
And then he smiled, and she felt it ripple through her, making her yearn for him all over again.
Her hot, damp skin was sticking to his and she could feel his heart beating in time with hers. They were seamless...fused with need.
But it was not just need for her, she thought, and had to press her hand against her mouth to stop herself from declaring her love for him.
What would be the point? For Gabriel, this was sex. She knew he felt the familiarity of it, but he wasn’t offering her a future, just dinner and show. And a personal tour of his office. Business and pleasure.
But not love.
‘I don’t need an excuse,’ she said, smiling up at him casually, pretending that she wanted nothing more than to distract, and be distracted by him.
And then Gabriel leaned in and kissed her, and she didn’t have to pretend any more.
CHAPTER NINE
GAZINGOUTOFthe window of his private jet, Gabriel tried to let his thoughts drift in time to the clouds gliding past the glass.
It wasn’t easy. The clouds passed by smoothly, like swans on water, but his thoughts were stop-start, jerking back and forth between the past and the present, between Dove and Fenella Ogilvy. He was running from the past, from the mother who had pushed him away not once but twice, and he hated it that he was the kind of man who did that.
But the idea of meeting her just yet was beyond him.
Better to concentrate on the present, and on the woman sitting beside him. The woman who had stayed with him when he’d pushed her away, and then stood by him, literally holding his hand, while he shared the secrets he had held close for so long.
He glanced to where Dove sat opposite him, her grey eyes lowered to the book in her lap. They had talked again, about her father and his mother, and he knew that she was still struggling to understand Oscar Cavendish’s actions six years ago. But, unlike him, she wasn’t fighting the truth. She had accepted it. Maybe because her father was gone.
No, he thought, his eyes seeking Dove again, as they did roughly every two minutes. She didn’t fight. She solved problems. If Oscar had still been alive, she would have been trying to find a way to live with the consequences, not dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.
She hadn’t tried to get him to talk to Fenella again. Instead, she had suggested that he write a letter.
‘You don’t have to send it,’ she’d said. ‘Just write down everything you want to say to her and maybe then, when everything’s clear in your head, you could arrange to meet her on your terms.’
He understood the theory, and he’d half listened to her, but there had been a small indentation in her forehead that had kept distracting him. But then there seemed to be no end to the things about Dove which distracted him.
