That Mistletoe Moment (26 page)

She stared at her computer screen and tried to focus on editing an article. Her mind didn't cooperate. She pulled out her phone and tapped off a quick text to Gabe.
Want to talk. Give me a call when you get a chance
. That sounded forbidding. Cold. She was irritated with Gabe, but he might have a good explanation for his behavior.
I miss you like crazy. Can't wait till tonight,
she added.

“Who're you texting?” Beth asked. Winding up a roll of lilac gauze, she looked away from her Easter egg construction long enough to glance at Rachel.

“Trevor, of course.”

Beth rose, and rested her hands on her lower back, kneading. “Any good sexting? I could use some entertainment right about now. I've been swimming in insipid pastels for our spring issue.” She sidestepped out from behind her desk.

Thumbs flying, Rachel changed the recipient address to Trevor's and hit Send. “No sexting.” She showed her phone to her friend. “Just telling him I miss him. Sorry.”

Beth sniffed. “Well, that's boring. But at least he's back in town. Will he be here for the office party?”

“Maybe.” Rachel looked down from her friend's critical eye. “Probably. He has a life, too.” Great. Now she was defensive over an imaginary man. But not all of her men were fake. She brought up the text, copied it, and sent it to Gabe. Putting her phone down, she turned to her coworkers. “Where are we on the March edition?”

The women huddled over their concept boards, putting in a solid hour of work before Rachel's phone vibrated with an incoming text. She kept working, but her gaze drifted toward her desk.

Rhonda sighed. “Do you want to check that?”

“No, let's keep working.” Rachel chewed on her thumbnail. The story ideas in front of her faded out of focus.

Beth cocked a hip against her desk. “I have to say, I think I've been wrong about you and Trevor.”

“You have?” That was a shock, coming from her friend who never said Trevor's name without grumbling.

“Yeah. These past couple of weeks you've seemed a lot happier. Work doesn't seem like it's the only thing in your life anymore.” Beth twirled a pen between her fingers. “If Trevor makes you smile that much when you just look at his texts, I can't imagine what he does to you in person. I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks.” That was really sweet. Sweet enough to almost make Rachel forget that she was a lying ball of scum for deceiving her friends. But work was still important to her. She straightened her shoulders. It was her main focus. If she didn't get that promotion, she'd, well, she'd be . . .

In the same position she was now. Happy. In love. She blew out a breath. What was happening to her? When had her work stopped defining who she was?

She glanced over at her phone.

“Oh, just go look at it.” Rhonda shuffled another foam idea board to the front of the stack. “You're not going to be useful here until you do.”

Rachel skipped over to her desk and plucked up her phone. She slumped her shoulders. It was just from “Trevor.”
Can't wait to see you tonight, too. I've got the cheesecake. I can't wait to eat it off your naked body.

“Well?” Beth asked.

“Just that he misses . . .” Rachel brought the phone closer to her face and read the text again. Then read the sender's information. That didn't make sense. Yes, the Build-A-Boyfriend's texts had been getting a bit racier, but that didn't explain the cheesecake comment. That was something only she and Gabe knew about.

Sinking into her chair, Rachel's mind pinged between possible explanations. Her heart pounded, and a slight buzz took up residence in her ears.

The “
company we keep,
” Ben's girlfriend had said. Slowly, Rachel pulled up the Internet browser on her computer. Made a search for
Gabe Harris
and
Build-A-Boyfriend
.

“Rachel?” Beth asked. “You okay?”

She nodded dully. Row after row of search results for a Gabe Harrison taunted her. One of the article headings even showed a picture of a smiling Gabe, shoulder to shoulder with his “best friend and cofounder of Build-A-Boyfriend, Ben Givens.”

She sat back, and swiveled to look out the window. Snow was softly falling in the afternoon's muted light. She stared out into the city she loved, but no answers came.

“I don't get it.”

“Don't get what?” Rhonda came around the desk and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You didn't get dumped, did you?”

Rachel stared at her. That question didn't even compute. It just didn't make sense that Gabe owned the company that she used for her fake-boyfriend service. That he would be texting her under Trevor's name. What the hell was going on?

“I'm going to find out.” Pushing to her feet, Rachel grabbed her phone. She didn't need her coat or her purse. She wasn't leaving the building.

Her friends exchanged baffled looks. “Find out what?”

“What's going on with my boyfriend.” She strode out the door.

“We have a meeting soon,” Beth called from the office doorway.

Rachel jabbed the elevator's Up button. Hit it again. “I might miss this one.” Yeah, she might be in jail for assault if the answers Gabe gave her didn't add up. The doors slid shut on her friend's open-jawed amazement.

Assistant editors vying to become associate editors didn't miss staff meetings. Rachel didn't care. The building directory told her every morning as she waited for the elevator that Build-A-Boyfriend was on the top floor, so that's where she was going. Some things were just more important than her promotion. Finding out why Gabe had lied to her was one of them. She rubbed her sweaty palms over her hips. He had to have a good reason.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open onto a deserted office. Huh. She knew Build-A-Boyfriend was mostly automated, but still, she'd expected someone to be manning the desks. Maybe they didn't work on Fridays.

Except Ben was in the office building today. And Rachel was willing to bet Gabe was working, as well.

She headed down a hall, made a U around the west end of the office. Low voices down the next corridor made her steps falter. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She wanted answers. But her heart wanted only the right answers.

Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself forward. She wouldn't be scared to face Gabe. To face the truth, whatever that might be.

His warm chuckle floated through the air. She stood outside the door to his office—yep, his name was right there on the placard, the lying bastard—and waited for her nerves to settle. Then froze as his next words sliced through her.

“Well, I'm not going to tell Rachel she was a bet. I can't see how that would end well for me.”

“A bet you lost.” Ben snickered. “I can't wait to tell the guys that you're sleeping with one of our ‘loser clients.' ” His voice dropped on the last phrase, right along with Rachel's stomach. She swallowed, her mouth dry, and struggled to keep her food down.

Leaning back against the wall, she missed what they said next, her blood pounding too loudly in her ears. Dizziness crept over her body, and she fought against it. She was a bet. She was a goddamn bet, and a laughingstock to boot.

Digging deep, she pulled up her pride and held on to it with both hands. If she was going to be sick, at least she'd get some use out of it. She'd go be sick right on the bastard's desk.

She knocked on the open door. “One ‘loser client' here to see you,” she announced.

Their horrified expressions gave her some shred of comfort.

Gabe jumped to his feet, his chair shooting back and striking the wall. “Rachel! It's not what you think.”

She laughed, the sound twisted and bitter. “How disappointing. That's the phrase of liars and cheaters everywhere. I gave you credit for being more creative than that.”

“Rachel . . .” He circled his desk, but she held up a hand, and he stopped.

Turning to Ben, she asked, “Do you want to let me in on your little bet? One of your ‘loser clients' wants to know.”

His shoulders curled over his chest. “It really isn't what you think. I mean, one of our clients is my girlfriend.”

She took a step back. Her hands trembled. She pressed them to her sides, hoping they wouldn't notice. “I see. This is a game for you two. You use your own company as a picking ground for booty calls. That's sick. Both of you are sick.”

“If you'd just listen to me.” Gabe reached for her, but she jumped back out of range.

“Don't touch me. Not one damn finger.”

Gabe closed his eyes for a moment, muttered something under his breath. When he opened them, they were resigned. As mournful as a hound dog's.

Rachel wasn't buying it.

“How did you even find out?” he asked, his voice low.

“You got mixed up.” She held up her phone. “You texted me from Trevor's account as Gabe. Better luck next time.”

“You texted the same thing to both accounts. I didn't pay close enough attention.” Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. “Rachel, please.”

“Whatever you're asking for, I've got no more left to give.” She backed into the hall. “Consider my subscription to your service cancelled.”

Spinning on her heel, she walked on shaky legs down the corridor. As she made her way to the elevator, she thought of every foul thing she could say to him. Of every insult she could hurl. Of the palm-hand to the nose her father had taught her before she left for college. If Gabe chased after her, she was torn between which tactic she'd use. Maybe a combination of all three.

She needn't have bothered. He didn't follow.

CHAPTER 9

W
ith the tip of his pencil, Gabe poked at the tiny Christmas tree on his desk. Sandra in IT had decided the office needed some sprucing up, and he'd found this plant in a coffee mug on his desk that morning. Its jaunty star and jolly red ornaments mocked him.

This Christmas was turning out to be anything but merry. It had been four days since Rachel had stormed out of his office. Four days of unanswered calls and texts. Four days of pounding on her door until the super kicked him out of her building. He couldn't go to her office, not without risking exposing her deception to her coworkers.

He prodded the bush again. The gold bell wrapped around its base tinkled. The cheerful noise was like nails on a chalkboard. Scowling, Gabe dropped the decoration into the wastebasket.

“Don't let Sandra see that.” Ben leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. “She doesn't like feeling unappreciated.”

“Who does?” Avoiding his friend's searching gaze, Gabe swung his chair and stared out the window. The afternoon sky was the same shade as Rachel's favorite nightgown.

The door snicked shut behind him. The visitor's chair slid against the carpet, and the cushion hissed as Ben settled onto it. “Since when have you felt unappreciated? Your whole life you've been the best at everything you tried. Your mom still keeps a room full of your high school trophies.”

Gabe tried to force his shoulders to unclench. “That's not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Rachel let me go really easily.” Gabe waited a beat or two. “It's not a good feeling.”

“She found out you'd been lying to her. Thinks we have some sick game going on.” Ben made a sound of disgust. “How did you think she'd react?”

“She won't even let me explain.” Gabe clenched his fist. He needed to go to the gym, pound out some of his frustration. Staring at his phone all day had left him feeling powerless. “It's like our relationship meant nothing to her.”

Ben snorted. “She wouldn't have been so pissed off if that were true.”

Gabe pondered that. She had been ticked off. And hurt. The anger couldn't hide the pain in her eyes. She looked like a kid who had just been told that Santa Claus didn't exist. He rubbed at the ache in his chest. He'd put that look there. He was responsible for hurting her.

If he could pound on himself, he would. Anyone who hurt Rachel deserved an ass-kicking.

“You said you were having some fun. A casual thing. It was going to end sometime.” A chair creaked. Ben must have sat forward. “Are you upset because she ended it before you did? That you weren't the one who got to break it off?”

“No, damn it.” Gabe spun around. “You really think I'm that fucking shallow?”

Ben widened his eyes. “You care about her. A lot.”

Gabe pushed to his feet and paced across the office. He didn't want to have this conversation. He wasn't the type of man to talk about his feelings and all that bullshit. Didn't commiserate with other men unless there was a death in the family, or a Rams loss. Never whined about a broken heart, or feeling depressed.

He paused, midstride. He'd never felt anything about a woman that was worth talking about.

Until now.

Facing Ben, he blew out a large breath. “I love her. I need to get her back.”

Striding to the trash can, he pulled the tree out, put it on his desk, and resumed pacing. “I need a plan.”

“Okay.” Ben smiled tentatively, his grin building with each second. “You're good at plans.”

Gabe glared. “Oh, shut up.”

“What?” He lifted a hand, his lips twitching. “What did I say?”

“You didn't have to say it.” Gabe stepped behind his desk, pressed his palms to the surface. “You thought it. ‘
Gabe's in love. I never thought I'd see the day
.' ” He gave his voice a high falsetto.

“Well, I didn't.” Ben leaned back, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands behind his head. “And my voice doesn't sound like that.”

Gabe rolled his eyes.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to make her listen,” Gabe said. “She won't pick up her phone, so I'll track her down.” He narrowed his eyes. “I'll trap her in the elevator. Stop it. She'll have to listen.”

“Uh, or she'll call the cops.” The smile dropped from his friend's face. “I think that borders on stalking, dude. Come up with another plan.”

“Fine.” Gabe flopped into his chair, his brain spinning. Picking up a pencil, he poked at the tree again. Fa-la-la-la-fricking Christmas. He sat up straight. Christmas. A slow smile spread across his face.

Ben cleared his throat. “What's that look?”

Leaning back in his chair, Gabe kicked his feet up onto his desk. “Nothing. I just realized I know where Rachel's going to be tomorrow night.” He smiled at his friend. “I have a plan.”

Sighing, Ben shook his head. “Of course you do. Just no trapping. Or kidnapping. I don't want to bail you out tomorrow. I've got a date with Juliette.” He pushed to his feet. “Christmas bonuses go out today. You want to walk around with me, hand out the cards?”

“Sure. What about our customers?”

Ben paused by the door. “What about them?”

“Do we have any sort of customer appreciation lined up for them?”

“Uh, we've never done that before. What did you have in mind?”

Gabe twirled his pencil. “I don't know. A free month?”

Ben's jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? Don't be stupid. We have to make a profit.”

Gabe grinned.

His friend twisted his lips. “Oh. You were kidding. Asshole.”

“But it's nice to know you have a head for business, too.” Gabe rose. “But maybe we could do something for our long-term clients. A free upgrade for a month or something.”

“Holy shit, it must be love.” Walking into the main office, Ben tossed over his shoulder, “Our Scrooge has gone soft.”

Gabe caught up and punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up. Besides, it could be considered good marketing.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

Gabe thought about hitting him again, but let his hand fall. He was feeling too good to let a little ribbing get to him.

Rachel didn't know it, but their separation was coming to an end. Because he had a plan. And damn it, his plans always worked. This one had to. He wouldn't accept anything less.