Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) (4 page)

For once the rain has eased up and I can’t
help but think maybe today’s going to go my way. Amy’s sensible business shoes
clack on the pavement as she walks, all officious and energetic. For the
dozenth time since she practically ordered me to Alaska, I find myself
regretting giving her such a hard time.

Maybe you’re not as smart as Sam thinks
you are,
I think, but then I throw the thought away
with a smile.

“Can I give you a ride?” Amy asks. I shake
my head.

“You know what?” I say. “It’s turning into
an okay kind of day. I’m going to walk up to the top of California.”

Amy turns and looks at the hill that looms
up in front of us, like a concrete tidal wave threatening to break over all of
downtown.

“Knock yourself out,” she says dryly, and leaves
me to start my climb.

Five minutes in and I’m beating myself over
the head for whatever idiotic decision prompted this. My calves are burning and
I’m finding it hard to breathe.

Some tough Alaskan, huh?
I think.
Maybe I can afford a cab with my big fat advance . . .

But I keep going. And after a few blocks I
realize I’m headed straight in the direction of the hotel I stayed in with
Gabriel.

Sure, why not?
I think.
A scenic detour, for old time’s sake. Or. . . recent
time’s sake.

I push myself up the hill, puffing for
breath. Finally I get to the top where California Street flattens out into a
long plateau. The cathedral is just ahead on my left, a giant spire reaching up
like it’s trying to grab the clouds and drag them down to earth.

That reminds me and I take my phone out of
my bag and call Matt. The phone rings and rings and my breath has almost
returned to normal when it clicks over to his voicemail.

“Hey you,” I say, and I can’t keep the smile
from my voice. “Remember that book when we were kids? The one about the haunted
cathedral that scared the bejesus out of us? Well, I never told you, but every
time I walk by this cathedral in San Francisco, I think of you.”

I lean against the low stone fence and look
out over the long fingers of the streets that break off California, rolling
down into the city, down the hills and up again.

“Anyway, I’ve got some good news. It looks
like I’ll have a new job soon, and I might even be writing a book! When I’m
rich and famous I’ll pay for you to move out here and—”

I see something across the street and my jaw
drops.

“And . . . I’ll call you back.” I hang up
and continue to stare.

Because there, walking just as tall and
confident as ever, with that same bullshit grin on his face, shaking hands with
the bellboy—is Gabriel. Right at the front of the hotel he stayed at. The one
where he did things to me I’ve never had any man do before.

And like someone hearing a sound they can’t
quite place, he stops and turns, and his eyes meet mine.

I jaywalk, vaguely aware of a taxi’s horn
blaring its driver’s annoyance. Gabriel meets me as I step onto the curb. He places
a hand on my elbow.

“Kate, are you trying to get yourself
killed?”

“What are you doing here?”

We speak at the same time, our words
tumbling over each other. Both questions remain unanswered as we stand in the middle
of the sidewalk. Gabriel looks relaxed. He’s wearing jeans, a black leather
jacket, and a bit of stubble, which tells me he’s not here for business.

“Why you are here, Gabriel?”

The corners of his mouth tease a smile.

“I was a bit . . . distracted when I checked
out of my suite. I left something important. The hotel’s been holding it for
me.”

“They couldn’t mail it to you?”

“Like I said. Important. What brings you
this way? Visiting someone?”

He jerks his head toward the front doors of
the hotel. This time he does smile.

I decide to let the jab go.

“I was having a business meeting not too far
from here.”

“Ah. Landing a new author? Good for you.”

“Actually, it’s something different. Better.
I’ll be leaving Snow soon and . . . I’m writing, too.”

I remember the last time I shared good news
about my career and how that turned out. But this time, Gabriel’s smile gets
wider and he says, “Are you now? Intriguing. Then again, you always were.”

I let his words and the tingle they bring
wash over me. I’d forgotten what it was like being this close to him, without
sex, with our clothes on. It’s a bit intoxicating. I feel myself getting pulled
into his orbit. And I like the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s just noticed
something different. Something special.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I want to hear him say that I look special
and that he finds me intoxicating too.

But he just shrugs and shakes his head.

“I didn’t realize I was looking at you any
way other than surprised and happy to see you.”

That will do.

“When are you leaving?” I hold my breath and
give a silent prayer the answer isn’t tonight. Or now.

“Just here for the day.”

I’m careful to keep the disappointment from
showing on my face.

“Well, then we should a get a drink. I can
tell you about my new job. If you’re nice, I’ll tell you about my book and my
other good news.”

Gabriel hesitates and my stomach drops. He
can’t even sit with me long enough to have a drink. Then he’s looking at me
that way again. And without smiling he says, “Sure. We should do that.”

We choose a lounge just one block from the
hotel. I steal a glance or two as we walk—the lines of his jaw and those full
lips.

Holy hell. He’s really here.

It’s still too early for the after-work
crowd so we basically have the whole place to ourselves. This doesn’t stop
Gabriel from choosing a table near the back. I order white wine and he gets a
scotch. By the time the drinks have arrived, I’ve already told him about Amy’s
offer and the book advance.

He nods appreciatively.

“No sense going down with a sinking ship.
Good for Amy. And good for you.”

I smile and take a sip of wine. I don’t
need
his approval to validate my decision, but it’s nice to hear.

“Well, you know the business. If you think I
made the right decision . . .”

I raise my glass in a silent toast.

He does the same, and then finishes his
drink in one easy swallow.

“Another?”

I nod and tell myself just one more glass. Gabriel
signals the waiter and soon we have fresh drinks.

“Do you have a writing schedule?” he asks,
swirling the ice around in his glass.

“Not really. I’ve been trying to write every
day. Grabbing an hour here and there when inspiration strikes.”

“The moment it starts to feel like work, or
whenever you get stuck, walk away and do something else for a while.”

“Is that what you do?”

He leans back in his chair and nods.

“Absolutely. Something completely different
than writing. The more physical the better. Most times that’s taking my horse
out for a ride around the farm. Works like a charm.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. Though
I don’t have a horse yet.”

“So, will Sam be moving here?”

The question rolls off his tongue easily,
like he’s asking if I’d like another drink.

“No. We’re not . . . we haven’t. No,
Gabriel. He’s not moving here.” Another sip and then I add, “He’s a police
officer.”

Gabriel’s laugh is genuine.

“They have police officers in San
Francisco.”

“His life is in Cold Ridge and I’m—”

“Here.”

He’s regarding me with that same look from
before, but this time there’s something else. I only need stare into those gray
eyes for a few moments to understand.

I wonder which time he’s thinking of, and
which position.

“I don’t want to talk about Sam,” he says
softly.

“Neither do I. But for the record, you
brought him up.”

He shrugs with one shoulder and uses a
finger to slide his glass back and forth in front of him. I can see he’s
debating whether or not he wants to say something. Finally, after a heavy sigh,
he looks at me and says, “This isn’t easy for me, Kate. You know that right?”

“Seeing me.”

“Seeing you. Being here with you.”

“You were going to leave town without
letting me know you were here, weren’t you?” I hate the desperation in my
voice, the neediness.

Gabriel leans forward.

“Did you hear what I just said? Yes. I was
going to leave without calling you. It is bad enough that I still think about
you all the time when I’m not here. I knew seeing you again would be like . . .
falling off the wagon. You’re a complication, Kate. That’s the best way I can
put it. A beautiful, unexpected complication. And if I had any damn sense—”

“You’d stay away,” I say, finishing for him.

“Yes, Kate. I’d stay away.”

I run a finger over the fuzzy leaves of one
of the purple flowers in the milk bud vase on the table between us. I tell
myself that the next words out of my mouth should probably remain unspoken. But
I say them anyway.

“Yet here you are.”

Gabriel rests against the chair back once
more.

“Here I am.”

He looks out the window and checks his
watch. Then he stands up, decisive.

“Come on,” he says. “Take a ride with me.
Before I have to fly away from you.”

Gabriel’s hired a car this time, a black
Mercedes. I sink into the soft brown leather upholstery. It’s cool where it
touches the skin of my thighs and a tingle goes through me, thinking of his
hands touching me there.

We speed through the city, leaving the
traffic behind, a long line of flashing red and yellow lights. Everyone’s stuck
in rush hour traffic and the night is settling in. The sun is a memory of
darkening purple sinking behind the horizon. Gabriel takes us through back
streets, weaving around the jams.

Then we’re circling up the big hill just
outside the Castro, up, up, up. The Sutro Tower is a long shadow up above us.
When Gabriel finally parks we’re in the little lot just below it.

He gets out of the car and I follow him. The
night air is cold and sharp. He sees me shiver and shrugs his jacket off. I try
to protest but he simply looks at me:
Don’t be stupid. Don’t be proud.

I let him drape it around my shoulders. It’s
warm from his body heat and its dark blue folds still hold the scent of his
cologne.

He leads me over the dry, stamped-down grass
and over to the little railing around the hilltop. He leans on it and sighs, a
heavy sound full of complications I can’t even begin to name.

So I don’t say a word; I just lean next to
him and look out over the city. Now it’s a scattered galaxy of lights,
stretching all the way out as far as I can see. The Bay Bridge is a long gray ribbon
over the bay, its guide lights golden against the blackness of the sea.

But all I can think of, and be aware of, is
him. Of his body. So close to me, but in every other way, an eternity away.

I can’t help myself. The words come out of
my mouth thickly, like it’s a stranger talking.

“I might never see you again. And that makes
my heart break. So . . . while you’re here, now . . . can I at least have a
goodbye kiss?”

I feel so stupid as soon as I’ve said it.
Something inside me is hanging on to every passing second, sure he’s going to
tell me not to be a stupid little girl.

But after what feels like forever he
silently turns to me. I’ve almost forgotten just how toned his body is, but
when his chest presses against mine I feel the hard muscles of his pecs, his
shoulders.

He kisses me, softly and gently, like
someone in love.

Even though I asked, even though I want
it, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, it will just hurt more
, I think, but I can’t resist him. Molten honey runs through my
veins when his lips touch mine, sparks explode wherever his hands run over my
body. I want to fall to the ground and drag him down with me, let him love me
right here.

When he finally breaks away, his eyes are
dark.

“Kate,” he whispers.

Whatever he’s about to say, whatever it is
he’s struggling to find the words for, it’s lost as a dim rustling comes from
the bushes around the way from us. At first it’s a small noise, but then
bigger, as if something’s trying to force its way through to us.

Moving easily, he pulls me behind him with
one arm.

“Hold still,” he says. “I don’t know what
that is.”

For a moment I think of the wolf howling
somewhere out in the lonely forest in Alaska, and I shiver.

Get it together, Kate. There aren’t any
wolves in San Francisco.

But all the same, I draw a little closer to
Gabriel and the reassuring width of his back under his shirt.

He crouches, not alarmed, just . . . ready.
The rustling’s getting nearer and whatever’s in the bushes is about to come out
and then—

With a curse, two guy burst through the
bushes. They’re both big and heavyset, with bushy beards and identical pissed
off expressions.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing
here?” one of them snaps at Gabriel. He’s wearing a snug light blue t-shirt,
and there’s a lilt to the way he speaks.

Gabriel blinks.

“Excuse me?” he asks. The guy marches
closer, shoving his face into Gabriel’s.

“I’m here trying to enjoy a romantic night
out with my boyfriend, and you and Miss Cosmopolitan’s July Cover here are
ruining
it.”

Gabriel’s face twists like he’s trying to
hold in a laugh.

“Well,” he says finally. “I’m awfully,
awfully sorry about that.”

The guy isn’t mollified, and he stands
there, his hands on his hips, annoyance pouring off him. The other guy lays a
calming hand on his shoulders.

“C’mon, Brian, they didn’t mean any harm.
And anyway.” He gives Gabriel the eye.

 “Surely we can just let them go have their
fun somewhere else.”

“I think they
better
,” Brian says.

“Yeah, somehow this place has lost its
romance,” Gabriel says, and with a nod, leads me back to the car. We’re not
even two seconds away before I burst out laughing.

“Oh my
God
, that guy was so totally
into you. Did you see the look on his face?”

Gabriel clears his throat and looks out the
window.

“He
loves
you,” I tease. Gabriel rubs
a hand over his jaw.

“Well, they certainly had your number, Miss
Cosmo cover,” he says, and I feel a tiny tickle of embarrassment working its
way through me.

“Oh, gay guys always go over the top with
the compliments,” I mumble, shrinking back into my seat.

I look out the window as we drive back down
the hill. I want that moment back, the moment when Gabriel was just about to
speak. But it’s gone, blown away in a ridiculous encounter.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I
don’t notice we’re slowing until we’ve stopped out the front of Hot Cookie.

“C’mon,” Gabriel says gently. “I’ll buy you
a cookie.”

I let him help me out and order a couple of
hot fudge and macadamia and chocolate chip cookies. We walk down the street,
past the Castro Theatre, with its rows of bright lightbulbs.

The warmth of the cookie soaks through the
white paper bag and I inhale the delicious smell before taking a tiny bite.

Could this be my life? Gabriel and I,
going to the movies, eating cookies, just like two ordinary people?

I steal a sideways glance at him. He’s
walking as tall and assured as always, a writer who knows everything about
women, a man who makes women stop and stare.

“Show me where you live,” he says suddenly,
and I cringe.

“My place? It’s really not so nice,” I say,
and he shakes his head impatiently.

“I want to see it,” he says. I struggle to
think of a plausible excuse.

“What about your flight?” I ask plaintively,
and he looks at his watch.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, and starts walking
us back to the car. I can’t figure out a way to say no to him—but maybe I don’t
want to. I direct him through the streets, the conflict in my stomach growing.
I don’t know if this is a good idea or not. But can’t I just have him for a
little while longer? Soon he’ll be gone. Aren’t I allowed to have these last
few moments with him?

We pull out the front of my beat up little
house and I smile weakly.

“See, this is why I usually don’t bring
millionaires back home.”