Red Hot Christmas (9 page)

      “It is.”
 

      “And you let me inside it. I’m flattered.”

      Damn. Despite the breaks being on, his desire was still simmering. His need humming. Her phone kept ringing. “I have to get it.” She crawled out from under him and threw his shirt around her shoulders as she patted to the hall.
 

      Nicolas strained his ears to hear, but only caught flashes of the conversation. “Don’t worry…she’s not being mean…yes I’ll check your closet for shadows…” None of it made sense.

      True to her word she was less than a minute, but he could see on her face that the intimacy of earlier was broken. She wrapped his shirt tightly across her chest. “Sorry. Really. But maybe it’s for the best.”

      “I’m not sure I’d say that.” He reached out a hand for her but she sat on the sofa, just slightly out of reach.

      “Do you think we could…Not tonight…?”

      The sigh escaped his chest came from a place Nicolas had forgotten. A deep, untapped pool of passion that none of his usual dates even got close to stirring. He nodded. There was no use pushing it tonight.
 

      As if dismissing her desire opened up her body’s other needs, Gabrielle’s stomach gave a mighty grumble.

      Nicolas smiled. “Let’s eat then.”

      “I should probably just go.”

      “The food is all ready.” Nicolas looked at his watch. “It’s only early, and we haven’t spoken about your plans for the store.” After pulling on his pants he held out a hand for her. “Come. And do me a favor, stay in that shirt. The color suits you.”

      She looked down at the fine organic cotton of his charcoal shirt and shrugged as she rolled up the sleeves and did up a few buttons. Her frame was so small that with a belt it could have easily been a dress.

      Aware of her eyes on him as he walked the short distance to the kitchen, Nicolas toyed with what to say next. He was supposed to be grilling her for proof of her treachery.
Not getting swept away by your desires.
It was just pent up energy. The frustration of knowing she was hiding something and not being able to get it out of her.
Really?
Really. Once he’d gotten her in his bed, his head would clear and he’d be able to deal with her quickly and efficiently.

      Let her tell him her plans, she might slip up and give something away. Peeking in the oven, Nicolas discovered his housekeeper had instructed the chef to make one of his favorites—vegetable lasagna with a camembert crust. He turned the oven dial to bring it up to serving temperature. Swiftly cutting a lemon and mixing its juice with virgin olive oil and seasoning, Nicolas waited for Gabrielle to speak.
 

      “Do you really want to hear my ideas for the store?”

      “Yes. I’m in business to make people buy things. The grotto makes that happen. At least so says Fraser Kilpatrick.”

      She drew herself up as tall as her five foot one stature would allow. “Okay great.” She pulled at his shirt. “I know you like it, but I’ll just get changed first. It seems weird talking business without any clothes on.”

      He shrugged. “Sure. Bathroom is off the hall on the left if you want to freshen up a little.”

      “Thanks.” She spun and scooped up her clothes in the lounge before heading for the bathroom.

      Nicolas waited for the sound of the lock clicking and then strode to the hall. Fishing in her bag he found what he was looking for and pulled out her cell. He listened carefully for a second—the taps were running in the bathroom. Good. Scrolling through her call log he found the last received number and pressed call.

      Heart hammering, Nicolas waited for the man’s voice to answer.

      “Hello?”

      “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have got the wrong number.” Nicolas hung up. A child had answered. Must have been a wrong number. Gabby didn’t have a child. He let the thought sit with him a moment. After his grandmother had passed he had thought seriously about children for the first time in his life. It’d always been the two of them against the world, and suddenly he was alone. Again. He’d built an entire empire with the Morganti name but he was the last of the line.

But, kids? They got in the way, took up energy, made noise and mess and mischief. And there was no way he had enough to offer a child. He’d been lost without his parents for months, years. His grandmother had coaxed him along for long enough that he’d loosened up, remade himself as her son, and learnt to appreciate the hard lessons she’d taught him about life. But he’d never forgotten what he’d lost. He didn’t have it in him to be as patient as she had been, he didn’t have enough love left in him, so he would never go there. Period.

      He checked the log on Gabrielle’s phone and dialed again.

      “Helloooooooooo.”

      It was the same child. “Who is this?” Nicolas said.

      “Um. My mommy told me not to talk to strangers.”

      “Good advice. My name’s Nicolas Morganti. What’s yours?”

      “Fraser Philips.”

      Nicolas’s heart stopped. Blood frozen, eyes bulging, he hung up. Fraser was a child? Gabrielle’s child? She was a mother?
 

      His world spinning Nicolas turned and looked straight into the eyes of the woman herself.

      “What are you doing? Is that my phone? How dare you.” She snatched her phone off him.

      With the physical contact, Nicolas found his voice. “
You’re
outraged? You have a child.”

      Gabrielle’s face paled for the second time that evening. “You went through my bag and used my phone?”

      “And spoke to Fraser. Yes.” He paused, waiting for her to explain—to say something.

      “I don’t know what it is you expect me to say.”

      “The father ran off?”

      “He wasn’t interested in children. Never wanted any.”

      That wasn’t that out of the ordinary. “How old is he? Fraser?”

      “He’s five.”

      Nicolas did some quick calculating. She’d got pregnant with another man’s child while they were together. No chance the child was his, she would have milked him for child-support from the instant Fraser was born if it had been. It figured, he needed to add
destroy,
to the
distract and disappear
ethos of her MO. “Not only did you steal my money, and run out on me, but you cheated on me too.”
 

      She didn’t reply, and dropped her eyes.
 

      “So you don’t deny it this time. Thief, cheat, liar, that about sum it up?” Nicolas’ heart pushed at his ribs, willing him to soften, to listen, to check in. The look in her eyes would have melted a weaker man. But weakness was not a trait Nicolas Morganti had ever been accused of having. His head shoved his heart back into its flesh and bone cupboard. The heart was a muscle, not a poetic instrument of moral judgment. “I think you were right. It’s time for you to leave.”

Chapter Six

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.
Gabrielle stood in Nicolas’s hall and chanted the mantra over and over. As long as he didn’t ask who Fraser’s father was she wouldn’t have to lie.
 

      The world seemed to freeze, the stark white of Nicolas’s apartment adding to the surreal stillness that spread throughout Gabby’s mind. Her mantra calmed her, centering her breath and focus. Thank goodness Fraser was okay, night time phone calls were terrifying. Pictures of Fraser’s birth flashed in her mind’s eye, pictures of his first smile, his first steps, his first words. Special moments that had been just for her. If Nicolas found out what he’d missed… No. He probably wouldn’t care about the precious sentimental stuff. But his ego would want her to pay anyway. Pay in blood if he could manage it.

      Nicolas’s words finally registered. He was telling her to leave. Telling her to leave
without
asking who the father was. Not wanting to push her luck, Gabby stuffed her cell into her bag, grabbed her coat and practically ran from the apartment. Thank god she’d got dressed. Although if she hadn’t left him to get changed, he wouldn’t have had access to her bag.

      
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
 

      She took the stairs in case he decided to run after her and ask her the question she didn’t want to answer. With every step, she berated herself anew. Why hadn’t she quit as soon as she found out
he
was the new owner. Why had she set foot in his apartment? Why had she let him seduce her? Why hadn’t she locked her phone so that he couldn’t use it? But by the fifth set of stairs it was clear he wasn’t following and she pushed the button to summon the elevator, chewing on a nail as she waited. By the time she got to the ground floor she had run out of questions and her nails were history. Throwing this week’s budget completely out the window, she hailed a cab—if she took the subway in this distracted state someone would no doubt rob her, or maybe even have her committed for mental instability.

      “I should get
myself
committed,” she muttered when a cab finally pulled to the curb, sloshing a quart of frozen street snow over her shoes. After giving her address to the driver, Gabby slumped down into the seat.
 

      “I should hate him.”

      She saw the taxi driver give her a glance in his mirror but he didn’t bite. “I
should
you know. He seduced me, invaded my privacy and called my
son,
accused me of cheating then kicked me out. Anyone would hate him.”

      “I’m sure.”

      Really? The one cabby in New York City who
didn’t
want to gossip? Gabby sighed again. The cold press of the vinyl took her back to the leather sofa in Nicolas’s apartment. The way he looked at her, the night captured in his eyes, the flicker of candles illuminating his searing cheek bones. He was pure passion itself. He kissed her and all thought, all reason, everything, dissolved with her bones and she melted into his arms. When she was with him it was as if the world stopped. Held suspended in time the two of them devoured each other piece by piece, his mouth, her breast, his hand, her neck, every touch making her hotter. Every touch leaving her weaker for his pleasure.
 

      Wet. Aching. Need. She was simply the sum of those three words around Nicolas Morganti and what’s more he seemed to know it, pushing her to accept his passion, driving her to the brink of dissolution.
 

      
Damn him.
And now this. The night in the Santa grotto had given her a glimmer of hope that Nicolas wasn’t holding her father’s actions against her. Tonight too he’d seemed genuine when he’d asked about her work. About her life.
 

      All that was well and truly over. She’d seen the change in his eyes. From a tempered smoky grey, his pupils had flashed to sharp steel. If he could have, he would have cut her down with those eyes.

      “Please forgive me,” she whispered into her hands. Forgiveness? Is that really what she wanted from Nicolas? Forgiveness and compassion? Gabby sighed. Her muscles ached with the strain of trying and failing to hold herself back from him. So tired. Maybe she’d fall asleep and find that this was all just a horrible dream. She shut her eyes and opened them just in case, but no, the lights of New York City still flashed by and the turmoil of her thoughts remained. She wanted more than forgiveness if she was honest with herself. These past few nights with Nicolas had brought back a passion she’d hidden from herself. And they’d brought back an emotion she’d buried deep beneath layers of denial. She still had feelings for Nicolas Morganti. Feelings that made her heart leap when she saw him and sing when he touched her. Why oh why did her father have to go and ruin everything?

      Not everything. If she hadn’t got pregnant, if she hadn’t had Fraser.
No.
It was a dark night, but not dark enough to make her regret the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Sorry, baby,” she whispered to Fraser, hoping he hadn’t felt her dismay from across the city.
 

      Nicolas liked her work. She liked her job. She needed this job. And more than that. She needed—she needed him. Would it be so bad if Nicolas found out he was Fraser’s father? Gabby shook her head at the thought. The dark loathing she’d seen in his eyes was not the love and compassion of a father. It was the look of a ruthless corporate maverick.

      It was time to pull herself together. Mr. Able had promoted her for a reason and she had the respect of her whole team. Nicolas hadn’t fired her. He couldn’t, he had no grounds to, she just had to make sure she kept it that way because she wasn’t in any doubt he’d get rid of her if she gave him the chance. She was happy to let him think the worst of her to protect her son. Fraser was what mattered here. Nicolas already thought she was a thief and a liar. Adding cheat to the list was hardly going to make any difference. And if he did decide to go after her job, make it impossible for her to stay at Able’s, she’d get another position after the holiday period. Wouldn’t she?

      “Here we go miss.” The cab pulled over to her apartment building and Gabby handed over the majority of this week’s budget.
Crap
. At least she was home safe. With that thought a smile finally made it all the way from her lips to her eyes. Home.