RILEY
Strangely, I don't feel awkward when Andre lets me into Gabriel's house, or when I breezily say that I'm headed to the terrace to mix cocktails.
As I'm moving through the foyer, Andre's mouth opens and he stammers, which causes me to stop and turn so I can listen to what he's saying.
"Ah, oh. Drinks? For you and Gabriel? Um, yes. I can always send one of the staff to do that, if you'd like. We have someone here who is wonderful with mixed drinks."
Why the hell does he look so nervous? I cock my head and smile. "I think I can handle mixing some gin into some whatever."
Andre fights back a grin. "Gabriel doesn't like 'whatever' in his drinks. He's quite particular."
"I know. He gave me a half hour long dissertation the other night about gin and tonics." I tap my temple. "I remember the recipe."
That elicits a laugh from Andre. "I'm sorry, Riley, I'm just not used to... well, you understand."
Okay, here's my opportunity to find out some dirt. I step closer to him. "No, I don't think I understand. What aren't you used to?"
His laughter dies. "Never mind."
"No, really. I'd like to know." I debate asking him about Catherine but figure it's probably best if I go directly to Gabriel with those questions. "Sorry I'm so curious, but it comes with the territory."
"Gabriel is a private person, and I'd hate to speak for him. It's just that he doesn't often have women over as much as you've been here. And never when he's away from the house, like now."
I pretend to rub my cheek with my index finger. "That's interesting, because I've only spent a few nights here."
Andre leans in. "I think he's fond of you. But that's only my interpretation, so don't read anything into my words."
I wink. "Let's keep this a secret between us, okay?"
He nods and I grin as I walk away, toward the terrace. Once there, I go behind the bar and begin checking out the bottles.
I'm a boxed wine kind of woman, maybe a cosmo if I'm out at a club. My experience with alcohol is limited to cheap booze that leaves behind pulverizing hangovers.
None of the bottles of alcohol in Gabriel's bar look cheap. No, I suspect all of these are top shelf, something I'd always declined because I couldn't afford the extra few dollars.
Finally I locate the gin and open the cap. I sniff and grimace. Gah, it smells like floor cleaner. I take out a bottle of what I think is tonic from the mini fridge. How did Gabriel make that drink again? I was fibbing to Andre when I said I'd memorized the recipe. I stare into the freezer part of the fridge, noticing that there are two different kinds of ice: giant balls, perfectly square cubes that look like dice. I ponder this for a moment, and remove one of the balls. It's practically like a crystal ball, almost a see-through perfect sphere. I wonder whose job it is to make these. At my apartment, the ice maker died and I have the old-school plastic trays, and at least three cubes never pop out when I want them to.
Using a heavy, steel scoop, I fill a glass with the small cubes and set it on the bar.
I stoop down to inspect the glasses on a shelf, and am mystified by all the choices. I select two that seem like the right size, and end up locating the stainless steel mixer that Gabriel had used the other night. When I stand, I see Gabriel, walking toward me with a big smile.
"Thank God you're here. I was about to massacre a gin and tonic, and someone inside told me that you're quite particular about your cocktails."
Gabriel joins me behind the bar, still smiling. His gaze goes to the bottles I've pulled out, then to me.
"I'd say you were going to massacre it by using ginger ale." He cups my face in his hands and kisses me. "Or maybe you were about to invent an entirely delicious and new drink."
"This isn't what you used?" I wrap my hand around his red tie and pull him in for another kiss. He tastes like spearmint, and I suspect he either brushed his teeth or crunched a mint. Delicious. I kiss him with a bit more force and he matches my intensity. Our tongues meet and slide against each other, and his hand slips under my blouse and cups my breast.
"I've been around you for thirty seconds and my dick's already hard as an iron rod."
"Sorry," I whisper.
"I'm not."
After a few more minutes of kissing, he pulls back and runs his thumb across my bottom lip, which makes me shiver.
"What was your question?" His eyes are half-lidded, lust-filled.
"The ingredients for the drink. Do you remember them?" I turn so my backside is pressed against his front, and hold up the can of what I thought was tonic water.
He wraps his arms around me and swipes his hand up my neck, lifting my hair so he can kiss my sensitive skin.
"Fuck, you smell good." His hand again slides under my blouse and finds its way under my bra. His fingers tease my nipple and I gasp.
"God, you're so hot," he murmurs.
I turn around to kiss him again but instead, he's smiling as he reaches into the glass for an ice cube. He rubs it on my bottom lip, then puts it in his mouth and kisses me.
Within seconds, the ice melts from the heat of our kiss. He pulls away, my lips stinging from the force of his mouth, and I swallow hard.
"Riley, I'm going to assume bartending duties. Go sit and I'll take care of you."
"Tease," I say.
"Takes one to know one."
He playfully slaps my ass on my way out of the bar, and now that we're together, that lovely, squirmy anticipation is back. I know damned well I shouldn't feel this way, given how much I've learned about his circle of friends in the past two days. And then there's the Catherine matter. Not sure what I'm going to do with that knowledge. It's difficult for me to hold things in, though, so at some point I'll ask him about her.
Probably now isn't the best time, mainly because I'm feeling some kind of way now that we're together.
Happy.
I can't help but feel like I'm soaring when I'm around him. His smile, the way he looks at me, and my God, the way he's sliding off his tie, unbuttoning the two top buttons of his shirt and rolling up his shirtsleeves so he can make our drinks...
Sexy as fuck.
"What are you staring at?" he asks.
"You." I arrange my skirt around my knees, trying to appear casual, like I'm not gaping at him from a few feet away. Of course, I wasn't just gaping, I was probably leering. He's that beautiful.
"Did you miss me while I was gone, blondie?" He drops several ice cubes into the stainless shaker.
I don't want to say yes, but I also don't want to lie, so I merely bite my lip and grin.
"Don't want to admit how much you missed me? Or you didn't miss me at all? Okay, then." He's obviously joking by the relaxed, happy expression on his face. He pours the gin, then the actual tonic, into the shaker, and does a little move with both hands, mixing the drink. I can totally imagine him as a hot bartender in his early twenties, and assume women must've thrown themselves at him.
He pours the drink into two glasses and comes to join me on the lounge sofa. The air is perfectly warm, but not steamy, and it almost feels like I'm on a tropical vacation.
"Cheers," he says. "I really missed you."
We both take a sip and then I finally admit, "I missed you too. A lot."
I've never once told a man that I missed him.
Gabriel doesn't grin, or smile, he beams. Like I've given him the best birthday present and Christmas gift all in one.
"Tell me about your day." There's a kindness in his eyes, and what appears to be actual interest. It's so raw, so honest, that I'm almost shocked. Most men don't give a crap about a woman's day, much less ask them questions at all.
"Well, a guy tried to steal a chainsaw by stuffing it down his pants, and I spent the morning writing about that."
Gabriel's laughter rings in the air. "No way."
I tell him, in great detail, the story. Until now, I'd thought it was just a silly crime article, but he's truly entertained. His laughter leads to me giggling, and finally we're practically crying we're laughing so hard.
"But what if it accidentally switched on?"
I let out a snort. "I guess he'd be castrated."
It feels so amazing just to be normal with him, to laugh and have a drink. It's almost like we're a regular couple, except...we're not.
I can't think of that now, though, so I tell him that the network wanted to interview me.
"No way, that's incredible, Riley. I'm proud of you."
"Well, I was bumped because of some scandal in D.C., so it wasn't that big of a deal."
"Their loss."
I grin at him and he sweeps a lock of hair off my face. "Have I told you that you're gorgeous?"
It's impossible to respond because I feel too good right now.
"You must be so happy to be home." I trace his knee.
He blows out a breath. "You don't even know how much. It was a difficult couple of days."
"It's never easy to say goodbye to someone you love." Even if Donnie was a criminal, it's clear that Gabriel adored him.
After taking another sip of his drink, Gabriel traces the rim of his glass. "Donnie's wife is devastated, of course."
I nod, and although I know I shouldn't, I gently probe. "Did you see a lot of people you know at the funeral? Did Donnie have a big family?"
"Not...exactly. No. He wanted a small graveside service, and that's what he got. I know a lot more people would've liked to attend. There's talk of a larger memorial in New York, but I'm actively lobbying against that because it's not what he would've wanted."
"You'd mentioned his daughter, the one who disowned him. Did she show up?"
When he doesn't answer, a jolt of fear strikes me. Have I gone too far with my curiosity? "Sorry, I can't stop asking questions. It's my fatal flaw."
"His daughter did show up." He's staring over my shoulder, toward the pool. "That was a shock."
My breath catches in my throat. He saw Catherine, the woman who disappeared? She's alive? I don't know how to process this information, so I nod.
"How was that? Do you know her well?" I finally say, knowing I shouldn't ask questions I don't want the answers to.
"It was," he lets out a breath, "Odd. And yes, I know her well. Or knew her well. We grew up together. We were very, very close at one time. She was my best friend, my everything."
The seriousness of his tone tells me everything I need to know about their relationship, and my stomach plummets. "I see."
"I didn't expect her to show up, given everything that happened between her, her dad, and me. But she did. And it got real weird, real fast."
He shakes his head, then his gaze lands on me. He appears to force a smile and I try to mimic him, because I don't want him to notice how wounded I am inside. Every compliment and platitude he'd uttered to me now seems hollow. Fake.
I can't trust this man.
"Honestly, I'm not interested in reliving the past two days, Riley. I want to enjoy tonight, with you. You're all I've thought about."
Yeah, sure, dude, I think, as I down my cocktail in one long gulp.