Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) (4 page)

“She’s right,” Nick chimed in. “I think, from the eyeful we all got this morning, that Gabby is plenty grown up and doesn’t need looking after.”

Steve and Gabby both turned his way, leveling him with the death stare. Nick fought hard to shutter his gaze, forcing his eyes to go cold. After a beat, Steve laughed, breaking the tension. “You’re right about that. It’s not like we both didn’t notice it this morning.” Gabby let out a low growl by his side and Steve’s voice went soft as he turned from his brother and back to her. “Hey, maybe all these years, it’s been the other way around and it was you who’s been looking after us.”

Nick looked at him sharply then at Gabby. She was making a show of not glancing in his direction. Without anything else to do, he clapped his hands loudly. “You know what? I’ve really got to go. Hey, thanks for letting me crash here last night, and I, uh, don’t know what I’m going to do about the Claire situation, but you don’t have to let me stay here. When I get to work, I’ll get on looking for a place right away.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” his brother piped up, leaving no room in his voice for an argument. “I’m leaving tomorrow for at least a month—probably the whole summer. Just stay here. You can have my room until you find a place. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

Nick could feel the tension coming off of Gabby’s body clear across the distance spanning between them. Her eyes came up to meet his and the look she gave him was both alarming and disarming at once—all brown-eyed softness that took him back, melting him to his core, and igniting an underlying fire that told him he’d better not get too close.

He swallowed, clamping down and holding firm to the image of Claire sprawled on the floor intertwined with her yoga instructor. She was supposed to be just his type. Tall, blonde, model good looks, and his boss’s daughter. She was perfect, a shark just like him and his ticket to the top. Too bad her ideas about their journey there included the occasional threesome and not the twosome he’d envisioned.

In his mind’s eye, he saw how he must have looked last night when he’d shown up a drunken mess. It was why he usually held firm to his two-drink rule. Control was his thing. It had to be. He knew the risks of getting out of control. Of letting emotions take over. His lips tightened at the thought of how much worse he must have looked this morning, ass half out and still barely standing in the bathroom with Gabby. He needed to hold onto that. Hold onto the embarrassing image of the guy who got drunk, the one who lost control, the fast talker, the womanizer. The guy who lurked just under the surface ready to come out at any time. The same one who’d met her that night in the closet and hurt her the way his father did his mother.

Yep, he needed that reminder. Steve was right. Mom would be proud of
him
. Of how he’d continued to smile after she was gone. How he’d stayed true and honest and didn’t crush all he touched and turn it to dust.

His lip curled up on one end as his stomach turned and his heart ached over the thought of his mother. He missed her so much. She’d hate knowing how he’d done Gabby. Hate it, but probably wouldn’t be surprised. She’d been hurt by his lying, cheating father so many times, and in the end, he was his father’s son. Steve was the sweet, sensitive one, like her, and Nick was the bad boy, just like everyone had always said. The one most likely to be the let down. And he was. God help him, he’d let his mother down, taking the light from her eyes when he couldn’t be there in her final moments. And he’d taken Gabby’s light and turned it into a burning flame of smoldering anger always there beneath the surface.

He looked at Gabby now, caught the flame, and wanted to stoke it. It was the best way to make sure neither of them got burned. But she just stared him down and made him wilt and before he knew it he was apologizing. “Gabby, I am sorry for busting in on you like that this morning. If I stay, it won’t happen again. And it won’t be for long. I will get on finding a place.”

He watched as her eyes went just a bit softer, got just that much more liquid, like warm milk chocolate. He wanted to swim in them.

Her full lips twisted and she bit the corner of the bottom one. Nick was grateful for the sheet.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it won’t. Steve has a bathroom in his room.” Her voice was just as milky as her eyes, though he caught the twinge of the hard edge she tried to put on it.

“No, it won’t.” He let out a cough, clearing the clog that suddenly filled his throat. Nick clapped his hands together again, feeling hot and flushed and not really able to breathe all that well despite barely being dressed. What the hell did he just commit to? He flipped the sheet aside.

“Besides, I do need to figure this thing with Claire out. And I promise in the meantime I won’t clutter your life.” He looked to the two of them, then around the eclectic apartment. “You know how I hate mess.”

“What the hell? Was that a dig?” Gabby said.

“You know it was,” Steve chimed in.

And seriously Nick?” Gabby asked. “Should I type up some house dress rules?”

He grabbed the sheet again as his brother let out a bark of laughter. “Yo, bro, if you’re going to stay here, one thing you have to learn, despite this morning is that Gabby doesn’t take too well to naked men running around the apartment—and she responds even worse to naked women.”

Gabby shook her head and threw up her hands. “Honestly, with you two what does it matter? Have at it. Make it a Harlem nudist colony. What do I care? Later. I’m heading out.”

With that Nick watched as Gabby hit the door. She tried to look cool, but he saw it. Saw the effect he had on her, how her breathing grew shallow; saw the way the color rose on her creamy, tanned cheeks before she made her way out the door. Saw the way she took a quick peek back at him before the door shut behind her. And worse yet, he felt it. Felt the way his body reacted to each and every thing she did. He was wound tight, so tight he felt like he could break with just the barest touch. An extra blink, a whisper, a blow, and he would be over the edge.

Nick knew he was in trouble. He needed to think and he needed to think fast. He’d been a fool to get tangled with Claire, and now his living arrangement, his job, his plans of making partner, his entire future depended on how he handled this breakup with her. It was time to get his head in the game and off of the milky eyes, pillowy lips, and curvy hips of Ms. Gabrielle Russell.

Chapter 3

The Opal Lounge was packed on this Saturday night.

Gabby got there around eleven with Samara, relieved to have successfully avoided Nick for the rest of the afternoon. He’d been gone by the time she returned to the apartment, and thankfully, Steve was so excited about getting his part that he was already in hyper mode getting things together for his trip and didn’t bring up the whole mortifying naked bathroom scene again.

Gabby couldn’t help the pang she’d felt at seeing him at the door with his big duffle in hand. He wasn’t even gone yet and already she was missing him. Her security blanket. It had seemed like it was them against the world for so long. “You will make it back for the wedding, right?” she’d asked. “Don’t forget you’re my plus one.”

“Of course, I will.” He’d frowned. “At least, I hope so.” Gabby felt her heart drop, but Steve continued, giving her a smile. “Hey, there’s no way I’ll let you down there. Besides, how can I miss the event of the year? You know I’ve gotta get my swag on.”

Gabby and Samara made their way to the bar as Gabby let go of her afternoon reminiscing. She sure hoped that Steve made good on his promise because she didn’t want to go it alone. Looking around, she noticed Steve wasn’t at the bar. She was just about to ask the bartender on duty where he was when hands wrapped around her already tightly corseted waist. She quickly turned.

“We’re over here,” Steve said. “My boss let me off early so I could celebrate. Come on over, he set us up with a table and a couple of not quite top shelf bottles.” He turned Sam’s way. “Hey, where’s your other half?”

“Mark’s working tonight but sends you his best. We’re happy for you,” she yelled over the hard-thumping music.

Steve grinned at that. “I love how you talk in ‘we’s now. It’s so cute. New York’s wild child has been tamed.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re making me sound like some type of romantic sap, and you know that’s not me.”

“If you say so, darling,” Steve shot back.

Gabby noticed Sam’s color get high in that giddy, blushing way it always did when Mark was brought up. She was so happy for her friend, who’d been through so much before getting her happily ever after.

Over in the corner was a decent sized group of their friends, mostly Steve’s club and actor crew and even—as only Steve could finagle it—two or three of his exes in the bunch. This could get interesting. Gabby raised a brow at him, and he shrugged. “Hey, I’m leaving town. Word gets out.”

Gabby laughed. “Okay, playa, you just remember what you’re on that island for.”

“Yes, mama.”

As they made their way to the back area, it didn’t escape Gabby that Nick hadn’t made an appearance. She guessed that he was still busy with his work or whatever. Who knew? Maybe he had decided that his limber and sexually fluid girlfriend was a fine option after all. Gabby told herself to push all thoughts of him out of her mind and concentrate on having a great time tonight. It was her last night with one of her very best friends for a while. She didn’t have time to worry about Nick Ross.

Gabby sailed past Samara and took Steve’s hand. “Get me to the cheap booze. It’s time to celebrate my boy!”

She heard Steve snort from behind her. “Okay, Sparky, but you slow it down and pace yourself. I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

She shot him a look and shimmied her way into the pack. Introductions were made, and bodies shifted in the deep banquettes. As always, there was the usual deference paid to Samara as she was a famous Leighton. But she took it in stride, and after a while the ice was broken and everyone was relaxing and toasting Steve’s good fortune at having gotten his big break. Soon after, folks were loose enough to get out and dance. Gabby and Sam were cracking up watching Steve not so successfully navigate his three exes on the dance floor. You could see the sweat start to pop on his brow and run along the back and front of his tee. He ran back to the table taking a long swig from a beer and mouthing “
save me”
 to Gabby as she threw her head back laughing.

She shook her head. “That’s your troubles.” Gabby bobbed along to the music, starting to feel chill and catching the eye of a good-looking, brown-skinned guy across the bar. The way he was rocking and keeping time with the song suggested he knew how to dance and that the music was moving him too.

“And there you go,” Sam said, giving her a nudge.

“He does look like he can dance,” Gabby said.

“That he does. Why don’t you go and see.”

Gabby stood, took a swallow of her champagne, and put the glass down. “I think I will. I feel like dancing tonight.”

“Well then, can I have the honor?”

The champagne lodged in her throat and her blood went to ice. Who the hell used the words “
can I have the honor”
 in a place and at a time like this? Gabby forced her fingers to slowly disengage themselves from her glass so that she wouldn’t crack it. She knew how she must look. She was heated a little too much, so her hair was probably over-curled now from perspiration and stuck in clumps to her forehead. Her ‘50s-style handmade dress cinched extra tight at the red, corseted waist, flared out over her hips in an exaggerated way, and showed off ample cleavage as she bent over the table putting the glass down. Damn. Would she always be putting on some sort of a show for this man?

Swallowing hard to down the champagne, or maybe her own embarrassment, Gabby let her eyes slowly come up to meet the voice for the confirmation she didn’t really need. Dark, crisp, well-pressed pants; white shirt tapered at the waist—also well pressed, not a wrinkle in sight; two buttons undone at the sharp collar; and just the smallest hint of hair daring to peek through. She noticed he’d shaved and his usual perfection was back in full force. Not a hint of the sexy scruff he’d displayed this morning in evidence. The perfect lines of his tapered beard were back in place, and she couldn’t help but think that a tongue could get cut on those sharp edges. Gabby frowned at the unbidden thought, not skipping over the fact that his lips were still soft and full. She bit her own, her eyes sweeping up. His nose was full, flaring, and strong. His eyes, dark and challenging. 
Honor
, her ass. He was all about pushing buttons right now. This was the Nick she knew.

Gabby looked at him dead on and straightened. “You’re late.”

“I didn’t know there was a time limit.”

Gabby snorted and popped her hip—a totally unladylike, immature move that brought her back to the sixteen-year-old girl she used to be. She added an eye roll to complete the effect. Then did a mental check to make sure that all the old armor was firmly in place. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” She waved a hand. “Excuse me, I’ve got dancing to do.” She gave him a toss of her head and stilettoed around the table as best as she could. Damn that cheap champagne—or at least she thought it was the champagne that had her feeling unsteady on her feet.

She refused to focus on him. Just flat out wouldn’t do it. So what that she had to practically hold her breath as she shimmied past him, and her nose picked up the sexy scent of his woodsy aftershave. Damn. It even came through over the smell of sweat and alcohol that had now permeated the midnight dance crowd.