A Very Fake Fiancée: The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement. Nancy WarrenЧитать онлайн книгу.
to remember you saying that we had very little in common, so I don’t see how that’s changed.”
“We did have one thing in common.”
She checked her watch, although her cheeks had taken on a pink tinge, so she wasn’t entirely oblivious to their exchange. “I don’t think sex counts.”
It did in his world. “So any motives on my part other than chivalry are doubtful?”
Her blush deepened. “It’s been six years. You never called. I think that about settles it.”
Gabriel frowned. Thinking about what Gemma might have needed from him was not an aspect he had dwelled on, because he’d been so absorbed with fixing the scandal that had erupted after his father’s death. But he was thinking about it now. “Did you want me to call?”
Her gaze locked with his for an electrifying moment. “I slept with you. That was not something I did lightly. Of course I wanted you to call.”
Blinking, as if she couldn’t quite believe that she had said the words, Gemma set the bag, which she was still keeping annoyingly close, down beside one of two leather chairs grouped around a coffee table.
“I thought about calling.” And a couple of times it had been more than that. He had actually picked up the phone and started pressing numbers before he had come to his senses.
She sent him a level look. “It wasn’t a problem. I understood why you couldn’t afford to be involved with me. Banks and scandal don’t really go together.”
Gemma began investigating the racks of wine lining the walls as if she were riveted by his wine collection. Gabriel suppressed a surge of frustration. It was not the response he’d hoped for.
She pulled out a bottle of a rare French vintage worth a staggering amount of money. “I know for a fact that if anything about you appears in the papers, it’s always in the financial, not the social pages.”
Suddenly intensely irritated at the way Gemma insisted on reinforcing his image as a staid, boring banker, Gabriel drained his water and set the glass down on the counter with a click. “I didn’t know you were interested in the financial pages.”
She gave the label of the award-winning burgundy a distracted look and slipped the bottle back onto the rack. “When I’m stuck on a long haul flight, I’ve been known to read anything I can get my hands on, even the financial pages.”
She glanced at the narrow watch on her wrist again, and despite the optimism that had gripped him when Gemma had agreed to spend the night at his house, his mood plummeted. “One step up from the classified ads.”
“Only just.” She abandoned her perusal of the wine racks and strolled over to the counter. “Speaking of finances, I read somewhere that you’re a qualified economist as well as an accountant—”
“With a calculator for a heart, no doubt.”
She accepted the glass he handed her. “I didn’t say that. If you had a calculator for a heart you wouldn’t have bothered to rescue me. Twice.”
His pulse racing that she had mentioned the previous occasion that he had intervened to help her, he said, “Just a suggestion, but maybe you need to rethink the kind of guy you’re dating.”
The second the words were out, he wished he could retract them. Six years on from the one passionate night they’d shared and he was sounding like an older brother—worse, a father figure—dispensing advice.
“I intend to. As of tonight, I’m not dating anyone afraid of commitment—”
The distinctive chime of her phone distracted Gemma from a conversation and a simmering tension that was continually pushing her out of her depth. She had been worried because Sanchia was due to call her and she absolutely could not take the call right now.
Feeling under siege, she dug the phone out of her evening purse, intending to simply turn it off. Sanchia would understand. She knew that Gemma couldn’t always answer, and that she would pick up on the missed call when she could.
The phone ringing was a sharp reminder that she could not afford another sizzling fling with Gabriel. Before she could hit the power button, the phone was whisked out of her hand. Incensed, Gemma grabbed at the phone, desperate to get it back. “That’s mine.”
“You can have it back once Zane’s hung up.”
“Why would Zane be ringing me?”
Gabriel’s gaze was cool and flat. “I’m not prepared to take any chances.”
The small silence that followed, the knowledge that Gabriel was not only acting unreasonably, he was behaving in a distinctly possessive way, made her stomach clench.
Although she refused to accept that Gabriel’s disconcerting focus on her was either real or lasting. She knew now that Zane and Lilah had found the kind of deep, committed love she herself longed for. She wished them well with all of her heart, but that didn’t change the fact that their togetherness underlined her single, lonely—and now desperate—state. “I’m not Zane’s girlfriend or his mistress.”
Gabriel’s expression underlined his disbelief. Given that he had dropped her like a hot coal six years ago, his opinion shouldn’t register, but tonight it did.
She was tired of being judged and dismissed and treated as if she was a pretty airhead just out for a good time. She was strong and independent; she had dreams and desires and plans. She certainly wasn’t the good-time girl the tabloids had dubbed her.
Just the thought of that derogatory label made her feel sick. The only good time she’d ever had had lasted just a few short hours. “I am not interested in an affair with Zane. If only you knew, it’s the last thing I want.”
One final chime and the call went through to answer phone.
She drew an impeded breath. She should be angry that Gabriel was behaving so high-handedly in taking her phone and switching it off. That he could believe, even now, after everything that had happened, that she would try to remain in contact with Zane.
But she couldn’t sustain the anger for one simple reason. Gabriel wouldn’t behave in such an arrogant fashion if he didn’t care. The thought clutched at her deep inside and refused to let go, generating a dangerous excitement she recognized only too well. She lifted her chin. “And if Zane does call, what then?”
“I’ll deal with him.”
“It’s none of your business, but the number that flashed up was my sister’s, in Dolphin Bay. She’s looking after Sanchia until I get home.”
She caught the flash of relief in Gabriel’s gaze and in that moment a startling thought hit her. Gabriel was jealous. The revelation took root, spiralled through her on a dizzying wave of delight.
So it definitely wasn’t chance that he had used the secret tunnel that had come out near Zane’s door. He must have deduced where she had gone and had probably chosen the hidden way to avoid the press.
He let out a breath, dragged long fingers through his hair, his expression repentant enough as he handed her the phone that she had to resist the urge to smile. “Damn. Sorry.”
And just like that they were back to the softness, the singular, sweet camaraderie that in tiny fragments they’d shared over the years, and which she had always adored.
She drew in a breath at the curious melting sensation inside, the crazy desire to step close to Gabriel and test out her theory by winding her arms around his neck, lifting up on her toes and kissing him again.
Feeling suddenly in need of air, she turned to the French doors behind her, fumbled at the handle and stepped outside.
The fresh, cool night air took her breath as she walked to the edge of the balcony and looked out to sea and a magnificent view of the nearest island, Ambrus. Anything to dissipate the perilous warmth, the heady tension that gripped her.