“Bedroom,” he said, his tone still clipped. “Come. This way.”
I was still thinking about the library and the books, some hardcover, others paperback, all appearing in pristine condition.
“One day I’d like to hear that sound for something other than books,” he said, his tone lighter than seconds before.
“Seriously, what am I supposed to say to that?” It was like the handcuff comment at the precinct.
Gabe chuckled, grasped my elbow, and led me back through the elegant inlaid marble entryway from which I’d entered to the other side of the massive apartment.
“Master bedroom here,” he said, pointing to the open door leading to his suite.
I wasn’t ready to get an intimate look at his personal space, so I waited for him to move us along.
“And this is your room,” he said.
Next to his.
I swallowed hard and stepped inside. Wall-to-wall windows on one side surrounded by light, drapey-looking white curtains, and another generous set of windows on an adjoining wall.
“You can see Central Park in daylight,” he said, his tone back to normal. “My sister, Lucy, stays here when she’s in town.”
“How many of you Dares are there?”
“Three. Lucy lives in L.A. and runs our clubs out there, and she has no visits planned. Feel free to use whatever you’d like until we can get you a wardrobe of your own.”
I spun from the gorgeous view to look at the equally gorgeous man. “I’ll borrow your sister’s clothes if you’re sure she won’t mind.” I wasn’t going to touch his other outrageous statement.
“She won’t. Lucy’s the most generous woman I know,” he said, the warmth in his voice both unexpected and touching.
He seemed pretty generous himself, at least to me.
He swung open the door to what I figured was the bathroom. It was actually a luxury spa, a mix of cream, taupe, and brown marble. The shower was filled with more nozzles and hoses than I knew what to do with, and even a bench inside.
“I’m sure Lucy left enough bottles of female stuff that you’ll make do.”
I managed a nod. I didn’t want to admit I was overwhelmed but was certain he could see it in my face. Channeling Scarlett O’Hara, I decided that tomorrow I’d deal with things in a much better frame of mind.
Chapter Three
Gabe: Revealed
Gabe silently thanked God his houseguest escaped into the shower as soon as she possibly could. The tour of the house had just about done him in. Isabelle’s oohs and aahs had been genuine, as had her love of his favorite room in the place. Unlike Naomi, who had taken one look at his apartment and immediately begun calculating how she could move in permanently, Isabelle, who he had invited, not only wanted to pay her way but she planned to leave as soon as possible.
Not if he had his way.
Back at the police station, outside in the rain, it’d been all he could do not to reach out and swipe his hands over her responsive ni**les, feel her tremble beneath his touch, and get rid of the ridiculous distance between them. He might not know her well, but he’d always felt they’d connected. The physical attraction was obvious. She was all woman, supple curves, her br**sts full and lush, and she possessed one hell of an ass. His c**k twitched with desire he’d felt from the moment he’d first seen her on Daltry’s arm.
But things ran deeper. They’d shared banter and flirting during opportune moments when he’d caught her alone. He’d had glimpses of the intelligent, witty woman she was when not with that pompous ass. But not until today had he really seen beyond the exterior beauty to the depth beneath. Those sexy blonde curls that bounced wildly around her face were a proud testament to the fiercely independent woman she desperately wanted to be.
The woman he intended to help her find.
It wouldn’t be easy. Isabelle needed gentling. Understanding. Patience. Not his best traits, but when it came to her, he’d already exercised plenty. He’d bided his time, knowing Daltry would f**k up sooner or later. The balls that made him a crack financial investor also imbued an arrogance that would be his downfall. And it had been.
It was Gabe’s good fortune that Daltry’s screw-up had landed Isabelle at his brother’s police station. Seeing her there had given him insight he wouldn’t have had otherwise. In Isabelle, he saw an intriguing combination of weary life experience and innocent ingenue. It was the innocence the most primitive part of him wanted to conquer, to possess. Since he’d begun running his father’s empire at the age of twenty-one, the same age he’d been drafted into surrogate parenthood to his sister, he had always gotten what he wanted.
And Gabe wanted Isabelle.
Chapter Four
Isabelle: Sleeping Beauty
After Gabe left my room, I prowled around, inspecting the beautiful flowered artwork on the walls. Georgia O’Keefe originals if I wasn’t mistaken. I’d always been drawn to the bright colors and light. I searched the drawers for clothes, discovering that Gabe’s sister and I had similar taste. In fact, we shared some of the same items, but mine were back in my old closet, while hers were lying unused, inviting me to squeeze my Ds into her obviously more compact Bs.
Gabe was right. Tomorrow I’d have to go buy some of my own clothes, and I cringed at the thought of digging into my meager savings but would because I wouldn’t let him buy me the way Lance had.
I took a long, hot bath, lingering and feeling ultra decadent as I relaxed into the whirlpool bubbles. After, I dressed in Lucy’s sweatpants, mortified to discover that they, too, were a size too small. Clearly the woman didn’t have my boobs or my size ass. And here I’d really wanted to like her.
With a resigned sigh, I stepped out of the bathroom, surprised to find a tray of food at the foot of the bed, a chilled bottle of Bling H20—which cost forty dollars a bottle thanks to the Swarovski crystal-encrusted wording and the champagne-like cork. I knew this because Lance complained when I requested tap water at his favorite restaurant, insisting I order only the best.
And Gabe kept the water in his home. The bottle was too pretty for me to even open. Well, the man did own exclusive hotels and clubs, and I knew he’d been featured in online gossip columns more than once for his single, eligible status. He certainly desired and could afford the very best.
Still, I was thirsty, he had left it for me, and as with most things in my life at the moment, I had no viable choice. I ate the scrambled eggs, not questioning too hard whether he’d made them himself, I was so hungry.