Friends to Lovers (29 page)

“That would be acceptable.” Gib lazily caressed her back. “For now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you, my beautiful girl, got me so worked up that I didn’t get a chance to get to know you.”

“I’d say you know me pretty well.”

“On the surface, perhaps. But you and I, we’re both sticklers for attention to detail.” He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp. “I need to see you. To see and touch and taste every inch of you.”

Daphne blinked against the suddenly bright light. Sheet clutched to her chin, she was about to protest. Until her eyes locked on to the trail of dark hair at his belly. That line she’d obsessed over since the first time he’d whipped off his shirt after a run. She realized how equally badly she wanted to see all of Gib. “What about the ice cream? Shouldn’t we refuel first?”

One jet-black eyebrow shot up. “Excellent point.” He shifted her sideways. “I’ll start with a dollop here,” Gib traced the hollow of her collarbone, “a tiny scoop here,” he licked the valley between her breasts, “and then eat my fill here.” His hand settled, warm and heavy, between her legs. “We’ll both be sticky, so then we’ll move round three into the tub.”

Daphne gulped. “Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Sixteen

To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat

~
Beverley Nichols

Gib crossed his ankles, leaning against the metal door to the walk-in. The scent of roses filled the air in this back corner of Aisle Bound. It reminded him of what had happened two nights ago, in his bedroom. Which immediately raised his dick to half-mast. Not that he’d once been completely soft since being with Daphne. They’d knocked off the list doing it in the shower, the tub, in front of the fireplace and on the kitchen island before moving on to her apartment the next night.

Actually, he’d stopped by her office to pick her up for dinner, and they’d moved on to a hot and heavy session on this very table. With her sitting on it, the height accommodated him standing perfectly. Their unquenchable need had been slaked enough to pick up a pizza and make it back to Daphne’s. Where the pizza sat by the front door, cold and untouched, for almost two hours.

“That’s pretty,” he said, pointing at the bouquet she was assembling. Gib always loved to watch Daphne work. It looked like she started from sheer chaos, with the buckets and heaps of flowers around her. And then, with a few intricate twists of wire, she’d produce the most amazing bouquets. Pure works of art. Like watching a painter create a landscape with merely a brush and watercolors.

“Of course it is.” Daphne never lacked for confidence when in her workroom. “See how the pitch-black centers of the ruffled white anemones pick up the black hypericum berries? And they fluff out around the tight white roses?”

There were a finite number of correct responses. Gib had hung out back here for years. He still hadn’t graduated much beyond thinking all the colors looked pretty together, but he took a shot. “It gives the bouquet depth?”

“Exactly,” she said with a satisfied nod. “Tie the stems off with a wide black satin ribbon—” her actions mirrored her words, “—and you’ve got an elegant winter bouquet. White and black. White and red. White, white and more white.” Daphne scrambled the stems in front of her into a messy pile. “God, I’m sick of winter flowers already. Of course, in a few weeks I’ll be ranting about how it wouldn’t kill people to send something besides red flowers on Valentine’s Day.”

“We’ve all got hot-button issues.”

“Tell me yours,” she pleaded. “Distract me from this field of non-color.”

“Gladly.” It was, after all, why he’d come over. To bitch about his day to a guaranteed sympathetic ear. To the one person in the world he knew would be able to, amazingly, right his mood in a matter of minutes. And, to be honest, in the hopes of more sex. Gib didn’t think it would take much to convince her. His girl matched him in the unflagging lust department. He adored her lack of restraint. The way she threw herself into lovemaking with a passion that both sapped and invigorated him. And how she laughed with him. It felt so good to not be performing, not be trying his damnedest to impress every time he reached for a condom. Instead, his motivation was first to make Daphne happy, and secondly to just have fun. So different, so natural, so easy. So fucking hot. “My day was crap.”

“Really? I thought it started well,” she said with a sly smile.

Ah, yes. Daphne had joined him in the shower. They’d gotten far dirtier before they eventually cleaned up. He’d been fifteen minutes late for his first meeting, but it was so worth it. “It did. But when you start the day so well, it’s rather bound to go downhill. I spoke to my replacement.”

“So soon?”

“There’s no time for a leisurely transition. I’m leaving in a week.”

“Maybe.” She waggled her clippers at him.

Christ. If Gib honestly believed there was any shot at staying, he wouldn’t have spent half the morning restarting a life in London. Arranging for a phone. Sifting through realtor sites for a flat. Booking movers through the Cavendish HR office. “Look, I appreciate your optimism, but you need to balance it with a hefty dose of reality. I’ve made calls. Nobody is hiring. I know we agreed not to talk about it—”

“Then don’t. What’s wrong with the new guy?”

“He’s a selfish wanker.”

Daphne giggled. “That’s your professional opinion?”

Professionally? Gib was sure this guy was capable of rotting the Cavendish Grand Chicago from the top down. “Christian’s based in Los Angeles right now. He went on and on about moving to the prairie.”

“Is he expecting covered wagons? Log cabins?”

“More or less. First he complained about missing all the movie stars. I pointed out that we host famous actors, politicians, titans of industry—he didn’t care. Then he asked what he was supposed to eat out here.”

“This man’s the general manager?”

Of course not. Because thanks to this ridiculous new corporate policy, five managers around the globe were being repositioned. And none of them in countries that did him any good. “Nope. Only an assistant manager. This is a big promotion about two years too early for him. Told him I’d get our concierge to set him up with a list of restaurant recommendations. Turns out he was more interested in the nearest spray tan salon.”

She pulled a new fistful of roses out of the bucket of water. “Did you discuss hotel business at all?”

He’d tried. Had asked him to fly out early to spend the day going over transition details with Gib. Christian had laughed. Actually laughed and vowed not to set foot in the “frozen ninth circle of hell” until absolutely necessary. “Not once I mentioned the weather. Christian hung up to go get measured for a tailored parka that wouldn’t make him look puffy.”

“So he’s not excited about moving. Cut the guy some slack. Neither are you, remember? I’m sure he’s not all bad. After all, you’ve got the Cavendish in such good shape, it practically runs itself.”

Ben ribbed him about that all the time. It poked at Gib with the nagging fierceness of an impacted wisdom tooth. “Why do you people keep saying that? It looks easy because I work so bloody hard at juggling all the moving pieces.”

“Sorry.”

He’d poured years of his life into shining the Cavendish into a sparkling star among the luxury hotels. Gib feared it would begin to tarnish in a matter of days under Christian. “My staff is exemplary. But after talking to him for fifteen minutes, I’ve no doubt Christian will find a way to bring them down.”

“Goodness, you are out of sorts. What can we do to cheer you up?”

“That’s an easy one.” He surged forward. When he lifted her by her waist, Daphne dropped the roses to the floor. Gib walked her back until she was supported by the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips. “You want to cheer me up? Just follow my lead.” Gib slid his hands around to her ass. Her perfect, heart-shaped ass that he loved to nibble on.

“Gib, we’re not alone here.”

“Yes, we are. Milo left for the day. I locked up behind him. Julianna and Ivy are out at a final walk-through with a bride. Just you, me and the anemones.”

“Anemones and roses that need to be turned into bouquets before I can quit for the day. Sorry.” With a quick nip at his neck, she slid down his body until her feet touched the floor.

The bloody wedding wasn’t for another three days. Couldn’t she see that he needed tending to before the blasted flowers? Now that he’d jumped with both feet into an official relationship, Gib wanted to realize some of the perks of that status. “Or, you could take a fifteen-minute break now.”

“You say fifteen, but we both know the kind of break you have in mind won’t clock in under forty-five minutes.”

She had a point. Daphne made him insatiable in a way he’d never experienced before. And not just for the sex. The lying in bed after, talking and laughing had become the favorite part of Gib’s day. “Fine. Be a boring, responsible business owner. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t wait. Why don’t you go to the gym? Run off your frustration with Christian on a treadmill. By the time you finish and pick up Chinese, I should be finished.”

Not a horrible suggestion. “My idea was better.”

“By far,” she agreed.

“But this will have to do.” Maybe he’d call Ben. Hassling his friend into sweating his ass off always put him in a better temper. Ben had a tendency to whine like a little girl during a workout. Always cracked Gib up. “Then dinner? I was thinking Bistrot Zinc. I’ve a craving for their cassoulet. Plus, you can’t show up there in jeans. I’m more than eager to spend the evening ogling you in a dress and stockings. Any chance you’ve got a garter belt?”

“Perhaps I’ll make you wonder all night. Will your night end with me wearing nothing but heels, a garter belt and a pair of pearl earrings?”

“A man can dream.”

She touched her fingers to her ear. “Oh, that reminds me. I left my earrings at your place. Hope you didn’t think Milo had turned into a cross-dresser.”

“Not at all. We had that talk when he moved in,” Gib said absently. His mind freeze-framed on the dangly blue earrings he’d seen on his dresser, but not processed. “Told him I didn’t want to find bras and slips in our laundry.” She’d left her earrings. At his place. Hadn’t immediately called him in a panic. Knew she’d be back to get them soon enough.

Christ, but he was in trouble. In over his head. He’d been happier in the last few days than in as long as he could remember. As if tiny soda bubbles buoyed his every step. Or, to reach back to the A levels in English lit that he earned at Cambridge, petals of contentment now cushioned his heart. Part of him had taken for granted the add-on of mind-blowing sex to his best friend relationship with Daphne. A simple upgrade. Like switching from DVDs to Blu-ray. Assumed nothing would change. Even as his entire world changed with one swipe of the bureaucratic sword.

Now she’d committed the cardinal sin a woman could make. The leave-behind. Classic gambit to force a return to the bedroom. Many women had tried. Gib never stayed in bed as a woman put herself back together. No, he did a full sweep through the apartment, making sure she didn’t leave so much as a tissue behind.

With Daphne, he hadn’t bothered. They were constantly in and out of each other’s places. She had the better television, whereas he had the well-stocked kitchen. A week didn’t pass that one of them wasn’t at the other’s apartment. It never occurred to him to do a sweep after Daphne. Especially since she spent the entire night—also a first for Gib.

To be fair, he didn’t for a second believe she’d done it on purpose. She didn’t play those games. Never tried to use her considerable wiles to trick the opposite sex. No doubt the earrings were an honest mistake. But they signified so much more. As bright as neon, the earrings were a sign that she and Gib were morphing from merely a serious relationship to the kind that led somewhere. The kind with a future. And a future here in America was just what Gib didn’t have.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said abruptly. Grabbed the counter for support as his world reeled.

“You don’t think we’ll be able to get in without a reservation? No big deal. I’m just as happy with grilled cheese sandwiches. As long as we eat them in bed. Naked.”

“No. Not naked.” Why? Why’d she have to leave behind a stupid pair of earrings? Why did they, of all things, make him realize that he’d fallen in love with her? So swept up in the sheer joy of being closer to her than ever that he’d ignored what a selfish bastard he’d been to take her to bed. As soon as Gib learned he had to leave, he should’ve stopped all forward momentum with Daphne. Instead, he’d given in to curiosity and need and desire.

He hadn’t bothered to worry about what would happen when his plane inevitably took off. Well, hadn’t
let
himself worry about it. Hadn’t thought about how fucking much more it would hurt to walk away now that they’d escalated things. Now that he—God help him—loved her. The crack beginning to tear his heart in two threatened to engulf Gib. He’d barely be able to choke out the words as it was. If she kept nattering on about sex, he’d lose his resolve.

“Geez, you’re really fixated on that garter belt thing, aren’t you? If we stay home, I can put on a lingerie show for you.” Daphne slipped the corner of her shirt down her shoulder just long enough to tease with a glimpse of an apple-green bra strap. “How’s that for a compromise?”

Gib couldn’t beat around the bush. He couldn’t ease into it. He had to put his spanking-new realization out on the table. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

She laughed. “Is this like your whole no-touching thing from the other night? If you see me in a garter belt, you’ll lose all willpower and ravish me on the floor?”

Yes. Absolutely. “Stop. Listen to me.” He guided her around the worktable to sit on a stool. Time to put his own wants aside in order to cushion Daphne’s heart. He’d promised her, he’d promised the guys—hell, he’d even promised himself. Above all else, he wouldn’t hurt Daphne. Yet already they were deep into a real, committed relationship. Gib didn’t know how it had happened. He only knew that he couldn’t let it go any further. Not because he wanted to be apart from her for a single minute. No, not for his sake at all, but for hers.

For the very first time, Gib would be leaving a woman while still entranced by her. Before he’d had his fill. So many years of platonic friendship. An utter waste, now that Gib knew how famously they got on in bed. But instead of being an easy add-on, sex had become a catalyst. And he cared for her far too deeply to allow that final transformation to occur.

“This thing between you and me? The being lovers on top of being friends? It has to stop. Immediately.”

The laughter in her eyes vanished. “What are you talking about?”

Why did he have to spell it out for her? They usually ran on the same wavelength. But now, Gib’s throat choked almost closed with the pain of his sudden realization. At the strength of the love that tightened his lungs and threatened to drown him.

“We have no chance of sharing a future. None. The clock is ticking. In seven days I must return to England. Us not talking about it doesn’t change the basic facts. With such short notice, I haven’t been able to line up any other jobs. I won’t be able to. Period. We’re both fooling ourselves if we contemplate any other resolution.”