Red Hot Christmas (8 page)

      “But what he did or didn’t intend doesn’t make it any easier on you does it?”

      She shook her head and looked down at her hands.

      Nicolas patted her knee gently, exuding what he hoped was understanding and compassion. This was where he needed to tread carefully. Too much and she’d suspect his intentions, just enough and she’d melt into his hands like warmed butter. “Tell me about it.”

      Taking his hand away and sitting back on the sofa he waited. One, two, three. She looked up at him and her indigo eyes were clouded and sad. But not angry. Not suspicious. Excellent.

      “Take your time. I might be able to help.”

      Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle rubbed her hands together nervously then set her shoulders back. “My father put one of his companies and our family home in my name.”

      Nicolas leaned forward and refilled her wine glass, now almost empty. He said nothing, letting her take her time.

      “I like to think he was trying to help.”

      “But it didn’t turn out that way.”

      “No.”

      The silence grew and Nicolas studied her. Emotions flashed across her face, flickering from desperation to determination in seconds. As much as he despised what she’d done to him, Nicolas wouldn’t wish a visit from the FBI on anyone. If she had only been on the periphery of her father’s fraud, it would have been a bewildering experience when the men in black began shredding her life around her.
She might not have been on the periphery though. She might have just been smarter than her father.
The back and forth between wondering if he’d been wrong and deciding she was spinning him a line was worse than watching a Wimbledon match between Federer and Nadal.

      
Something changed in her face and her features smoothed out. She’d obviously made a decision.
 

      “It meant everything became my responsibility. My name, my problem.” She sighed. “I couldn’t afford the mortgage so I sold the house straight away. But I’m still stuck with the company debt. I’ve been paying it off for the last five years. Everything I earn disappears into my father’s mess but it doesn’t really seem to be making a difference. I’ve hardly paid off a sixth of it and now interest rates are up so my repayments have increased. I’m sorry, some of that money should be going to you. But my lawyer seems to think it gets swallowed before any of the actual investors see it.”

       “He’s right.” Nicolas narrowed his eyes but couldn’t make the call between whether she’d decided to tell him everything or just spin him a story. “So you really
do
need this job.”

      She looked him full in the eye. “That’s not why I told you. I don’t want any of this to impact on your decisions about my work. I told Mr. Able about my past when I first started. He’d heard about my father, just like you have, but he trusted me. I made sure of that. I worked weekends for free for a month while I waitressed the weekdays. Mr. Able believed in giving second chances when they were earned.
 

      Trust. There was that word again. Nicolas took a small sip of wine, hoping to encourage Gabrielle to keep drinking and talking. The more she opened up now, the easier it would be to press her for more details as the night wore on.

      “I’m sorry if I’ve been abrupt with you. It was a shock discovering you worked for me. I looked for you after you left but you disappeared. The last thing I expected was for our paths to cross again like this.”

      “That’s fair enough.” Gabrielle dropped her eyes again and toyed with her glass.
 

      Was she buying his sincerity? She rubbed her back and her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder. Nicolas took a good long look at her. It wasn’t just her overcoat that was worn. When he’d seen her for the first time by the elevator, her red dress had been sharp, sexy and fairly new. But everything else she’d worn since had been tired and dated, even to his non-fashion conscious eyes. The peach floral shirt she wore tonight was neat enough, his secretary would probably call it vintage, but it looked more thrift-store than retro-chic. And her brown pencil skirt had a thread trailing at its hem. One good tug and the thing would probably disintegrate. Maybe her story about sinking her earnings into her father’s debt was true.
And maybe she dressed to make sure people thought it was true.       
 

      
Clothing aside however, Gabrielle Philips was looking good. Her face had rounded out since they’d been together and her figure, while still tiny, was fuller. The breasts that filled out her blouse looked like they’d gone up a cup size. Thinking of her breasts made Nicolas hard. Damn her. Then he relaxed. If she was going to play the sex game, so was he. It was a distraction.
A dangerous distraction, be careful.
Sure, once he’d made love with Gabrielle Philips again he’d be able to get on with what he needed to do. But she could just as easily try and take him down for sexual harassment if he left her any opportunity. She needed to initiate, and, he glanced around, nope, no camera phone anywhere near by.

       “Tell me more about your father. Here, come and sit, you look uncomfortable perched like that.”

      Gabrielle hesitated a moment then exhaled and shuffled from the ottoman to the sofa. “I don’t know what else there is to tell you. I’m sure you read that Dad got a hefty sentence and his poor secretary went down for a year too. I’m sure Sydney had nothing to do with it. Not that I think my father’s sentence was a mistake, what he did was wrong,” she said quickly. “But he’s not exactly a spring chicken. When he gets out…”

      Nicolas moved surreptitiously along the sofa, a picture of concern and compassion.

      “When he gets out, I will have spent almost all of my adult life without him. The world’s moving so fast these days too. Technology will have changed, life will have changed. I worry about him.”

      “Of course you do. He’s still your father.”

      Gabrielle turned to face him. “I really didn’t think you’d feel like that. After what he did to you—what he took from you—I thought you’d be first in line to make sure he was staying in jail for good.”

      “Revenge is best served hot. When you father gets out, I will have made back the money he stole many times over.”
Getting revenge on you however…

      
Gabrielle gave a small smile. A little bit of Nicolas’s resolve chipped away. She was so open, so vulnerable.
There’s no such thing as coincidence. No such thing…

      “I’m so glad you like the grotto. I didn’t know if you would. Mr. Able was always up for some slight deviations from the ordinary, but you—with all the businesses you own—I thought it might be a little too different. Even a few of my team weren’t sure about the ice room, they insisted Christmas should be all red and jolly. Apparently ice crystals don’t read like that.” She looked up at him then faltered. “I mean, there will still be a merry fat man in his Santa suit of course. And we’ll be cross-selling our hearts out, don’t worry.”

      She thought he was conservative, solely focused on business. A small part of him was hurt but he hadn’t really given her reason to think otherwise. “I’m sure the children will love it. And more importantly, their parents will be inspired to spend more at Able’s.”
 

      “Of course.” Her face dropped, just a little, but she recovered quickly. “This wine is starting to go to my head. I don’t usually drink. Perhaps I shouldn’t have anymore. I like to have my wits about me on the subway.”

      Nicolas waved her off as he poured the last trickle of the bottle into her glass. “My driver will take you home. Where
are
you living these days?”

      “Upper Harlem.” She didn’t skip a beat but he saw the hurt in her eyes even while she jutted her chin as if challenging him to say something. Things really had changed for Gabrielle Philips.
 

      “About last night…” he started.

      “I’m sorry. I should never have fallen into that kiss. And I really didn’t want to run off like that, but I was already late.”

      “That’s not what I meant.”

      “Oh.” Her look changed, her gaze softening and drifting to his lips.

      “We always were good together.”

      Gabrielle simply nodded. It was all the invitation Nicolas needed and he slid the last few inches along the sofa. “Perhaps we should take up where we left off.”

      She put a hand to his chest. It felt wonderful there. Warm, familiar.
 

      “This is just us. No work. No pressure.” It was true. Any pleasure they took from each other had nothing to do with whether she was a thief and a liar.
 

      The blush at the base of her throat returned and Nicolas had to work hard to hold back his smile. Cupping her chin in his hand he tipped her head up and looked into her flashing indigo eyes.
Dynamite.
No wonder she was such a good con-artist.
 

      Closing his own eyes to avoid her hypnotic gaze softening his resolve, Nicolas waited. And, yes, she brushed her lips over his.
 

      Her mouth fitted perfectly with his and she tasted of summer—the bright air of a sunny day, the crisp white wine she’d just drunk. For a countless moment the kiss was all there was. The mingling of their breath, their lips, their heartbeats.

      But like it had in the Santa grotto, their passion grew quickly and without thought. Nicolas ran his hand from her chin to brush the soft fabric of her shirt. As if it had a mind of its own a button came undone with no effort from his fingers. Then another, and another. Soon her shirt was completely open and he lay her back on the sofa, his mouth moving down as he did so. Baring his teeth he nipped at her breast through the pale pink lace of her bra and she arched her back, thrusting herself upward to meet him. This was the Gabrielle he remembered. The woman of open passion and transparent need. She raked her hands through his hair and writhed under him, clearly as ready as he was to consummate their meeting.

      “You feel so warm,” he whispered against her soft stomach. Yet the subdued light from the Christmas tree stole the usual olive tone of her skin and cast an alabaster hue to her body. She was so pale. So delicate. So ready. He pulled the flimsy fabric of her bra out of the way and twirled his tongue around her nipple.

      “Oh. I’d forgotten…”

      “Forgotten me?” Nicolas pulled the zipper and shimmied her skirt and panties down as she lifted her hips from the sofa to ease their progress.
 

      “Tell me you want me,” he said.

      “Let me show you how much.” Shrugging off her shirt, Gabrielle lay back, only the scrap of pink translucent lace bra between him and the full expanse of her naked body. She squirmed one hand behind her and shed the last barrier to his gaze. He sat back on his toes, taking her in for a moment.
Mine.
The word ricocheted through him without warning and he started. What was it in her that brought out the possessiveness of his nature? Maybe it was her size. Her petite frame belied her strength and begged to be protected.

      “Come back down here.”

      Her command brought him back to the moment and Nicolas banished further thought. There was only the smell of her skin, the ache of his need, the tangle of their bodies. He took her lips in a savage duel, the meeting of tongue and teeth matched by hers. Gabrielle’s fingers worked at his shirt buttons and he stripped off the garment, tossing it behind him without a glance.

      “Wait.” Gabrielle struggled back a little, pushed up on her elbows and gazed into his eyes. “This isn’t some trick?”

      “No trick.” He said, glancing at the erect nipples which demanded his attention. “You want to stop?”

      “It’s not that.”

      “Well then, enough talk.” He pushed her gently back against the sofa and traced a rapid path down her body with his hands and tongue. She didn’t protest. Opening her legs he found her hot and willing, the pink of her center moist, ready for his touch. Blowing warm air over her sex, Nicolas smirked as she arched her back, so ripe for him her thighs quivered. Letting his tongue taste her again after all these years brought a groan from the depths of his very soul. He focused his attention and as he nibbled at her inner thighs, then twirled his tongue over her clit, he elicited a moan from deep within Gabrielle’s chest. A moan that made him impatient to plunge his length into her.

      A shrill note sounded from the hall.

      Gabrielle drew in breath as if she were pulling herself up from a deep meditation. “My cell. I have to get it.”

      “Oh no you don’t. You’re busy.” Nicolas continued to kiss her but she pushed him off.
 

      “Sorry. Wait, I’ll get rid of him. I just have to check everything’s okay.”

      “Him?” He sat back, the passion dimmed instantly. “Fraser?”

      She paled, then tightened her jaw. “I’m sure it’ll be okay, but I do have to get it. Just one minute.”

      “No.” Nicolas reached for her hand. “You’re not going to him tonight.”

      “I’m not leaving. Not yet.” Was that a smile? Nicolas riled. “But I’m sure you didn’t mean for me to stay here all night,” she continued. “You always said this was your sanctuary.”