Undertaking Love (15 page)

‘Have some decency, man. She needs a few minutes.’

A sneer twisted Rupert’s mouth. ‘You think you know everything, don’t you, Ryan?’

Gabe stared at him, disgusted that he’d rather argue over the top of Marla’s head than hold his silence for her sake.

Rupert mistook his silence for acquiesce, and looked back at Marla.

‘Come on now, darling. Stand up. It was only a dog.’

His words had a gunshot effect. Everyone’s head snapped towards him in shock. Even Melanie’s.

Marla hauled herself onto her feet. ‘Go home, Rupert.’

Rupert flinched under her hostile gaze. ‘I’ll go and call a vet for you.’

‘You’ll do no such thing. Just go. And take
her
with you.’

She jerked her head towards Melanie. It was the first time that she’d even acknowledged the girl was there at all.

‘But …’

‘Rupert, please. If you truly want to help, then just get her out of my sight.’ Marla laid a hand on his chest. She knew him well enough to know that he’d die rather than lose face in front of Gabe, and that alone was her guarantee that he wouldn’t make a scene. She allowed him to pull her into his arms for a second, but his lips landed on her cold cheek as she turned away from his kiss.

‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ he muttered, and with that he swept Melanie into his sports car and away into the night.

An eerie silence settled over the street as the sound of Rupert’s engine faded into the darkness.

‘I’m so sorry about Bluey, Marla. He was a gorgeous guy.’

Her face crumpled with pain, and Gabe did what he knew she needed most at that moment. He held her in his arms and let her cry. Great big sobs that wracked through her frame. He absorbed them all, wishing her pain away. He shrugged out of his jacket, wrapped it around her cold shoulders, and stroked her hair like a child until the tears subsided.

‘What do I have to do about him now, Gabe?’ Her voice was small and broken, so unlike the strong vibrant woman she was. He was glad that this was something that he could take care of for her.

‘What would you like to happen?’

Marla sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I’d wind the clock back and save him.’

Her voice cracked with raw emotion, and he squeezed her gently and rested his chin on the top of her head. He’d heard similar responses many times over the years from grieving relatives and it never failed to make his throat tighten.

‘I could see how much you loved him.’

‘It was my fault. I should have taken him home, but he cries if I leave him. He was always with me. Always.’

Gabe stroked the red waves beneath his fingers.

‘Let me bring him inside for tonight. I can talk you through things in the morning.’ Experience had taught him that people appreciated solid guidance at times like these. It was hard to think straight when your world was skewed. He felt the tension slump from her shoulders; saw the relief in her eyes when she looked up.

‘Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here tonight.’

She was so close he could see the tears that still clung to her lashes. Grief had rendered her soft and vulnerable, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lean down and kiss her. His gaze dropped to her swollen mouth. Fuck. He tipped his face up and stared at the stars for a couple of silent moments, pulled himself back from the feelings she stirred in him. He swallowed hard. This wasn’t the time.

‘You’re welcome, Marla. You’re welcome.’

He stepped away from her and held out his hand. ‘Come and sit inside. It’s cold out here.’ He settled her at the reception desk and produced a crystal tumbler and a bottle of brandy. ‘Drink some of this. I’ll be back soon.’

The brandy seared the back of her throat, but it had the desired effect. Her fingers stopped shaking, and warmth chased the shivers from her body. She could see Gabe outside steering Melanie’s Mini towards the kerb, and then moments later crouching down next to Bluey’s body.

She looked down, unable to watch, and noticed the small white envelope that had stuck itself to the base of the bottle. Peeling it off, she tipped her head to one side and read the name written across the front of it in confusion. Marla. Her own name. It was unusual enough to safely assume the note was intended for her, but she was certain that Gabe hadn’t put it there just now.

She glanced out at the street again, where Gabe had rolled Bluey onto a gurney and covered his still form with a blanket.

‘Sleep well, my fur boy,’ she whispered into the silence as Gabe wheeled him past the window to the back gates.

She looked at the little envelope again. Turned it over. Sealed. Bugger. Should she open it? Was it technically hers because it bore her name? Or was it still Gabe’s until such a time as he chose to give it to her? She was too exhausted to compute it, and noises behind her told her that Gabe was in the mortuary with Bluey. She placed the envelope back on the desk and pushed it away. But then, after a heartbeat, she grabbed it again and shoved it into her pocket to think about later.

Gabe had done as much as he could for Bluey tonight, so he headed back to reception where he found Marla sitting stiff-backed, his jacket still wrapped around her. She swiveled to face him as he laid a light hand on her shoulder.

‘Okay?’

‘Not really. You know.’ She shrugged.

‘Yeah, I guess I do.’

Marla glanced up, struck by the melancholy note in Gabe’s voice, and she glimpsed the pain in his gaze before it slid from hers.

‘Need a ride home?

She nodded, grateful not to have to face the walk home without Bluey.

‘If you’re sure it’s not out of your way?’

She realised as she said it that she had no clue where Gabe lived.

He dismissed her comment with a shake of his head, zipped back through to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a spare motorcycle helmet and his keys.

‘Come on. Let’s go.’

Marla made to slip out of his jacket as she stood up.

‘Keep it on.’

‘But …’

‘No buts. Keep it on.’ His tone brokered no argument, and she didn’t feel much urge to fight. The jacket was bringing her more than warmth. It smelled of leather, and spice, and lemons, and Gabe. It was a comfort, and a shield.

Outside, he tucked her hair behind her ears like a child and slid the helmet down over her face.

‘Have you been on a bike before?’ He lifted her visor as he spoke.

She shook her head.

‘Okay. Just hold on and trust me. I’ll keep you safe.’

In that precise moment, Marla had absolutely no doubt that he would.

She did exactly as she was told and wrapped her arms around Gabe as he gunned the engine into life. He glanced over his shoulder and closed her visor before giving her the thumbs up. She nodded, and they were off.

On another evening the adrenalin of the ride would probably have thrilled her inner speed demon, but tonight she was more moved by the comfort of Gabe’s warm body against her own. Arms wrapped around his waist, the intimacy of him nestled between her spread thighs as the bike throbbed beneath them sent her senses reeling. It knocked her sideways how very turned on she was. Disloyalty clashed against desire. Grief battled with visceral need. She was powerless to do anything more than let the sensations wash over her like a tidal wave and hope to still be breathing at the end of it.

She was just about the most mixed up she’d ever been in her entire life. Her canine best friend had just died, her boyfriend had gone from hero to zero in a crisis, and the man between her thighs was fast becoming the most enigmatic, frustrating person she’d ever known. He was turning her into a veritable Jekyll and Hyde. One day she wanted to kill him and tonight, right now, she wanted to take him to bed.

Gabe pulled into the country lane and eased the bike to a stop outside Marla’s cottage, but she made no move to let go of him. Her arms still gripped tight around his middle, her fingers were still searing his skin through the cotton of his T-shirt. He hadn’t ridden a bike without leathers for years, not since way back when he’d been a teenager taking Cheryl Brady home from their first, and last, date to the cinema. One look at the wild-haired boy on the motorbike was enough for her mum to ban him from ever setting foot near Cheryl again.

He touched Marla’s hand, a gentle nudge to remind her that she needed to dismount before he could, and he felt colder the instant she peeled her body away from his. He climbed off after her, helped her off with her helmet and laid it down next to his on the bike.

‘You okay?’

As she stood there and shook out her hair by the front door, she reminded him all over again of long gone teenage dates. This would have been about the time when he’d have been trying to work up the guts to kiss the girl in question goodnight, and now he found himself with the opposite problem. It was all kinds of inappropriate, but right at that moment he wanted to kiss Marla so badly that it physically hurt.

Frankly, Marla wasn’t helping the situation, either. Was it his imagination, or had she stepped closer? One second there was space between them, the next she’d dragged him against her. The world shrank to the size of Marla’s doorstep as she tipped her head up and found his mouth with her own. Her kiss stripped away his good intentions in a heartbeat as lust roared through his veins, a lit match dropped on tinder-dry brush land. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew he should stop her, but Jesus, she was all over him. Her tongue insistent in his mouth. Her magic fingers already learning his skin beneath his shirt. His hands wound their own way into the gilt waves of her hair as he surrendered himself to her siren call. When he moved them lower, her bottom moulded itself perfectly into his palms, and that appreciative little moan she made when he bit down on her lip made him burn to know how she’d sound when he thrust himself inside her. Her heart banged against his. Jesus, if she didn’t stop grinding against him like that he was going to screw her right here against her own front door.

‘Come inside,’ she gasped, and slid one hand down between them towards his crotch as she fumbled behind her with the other to put the key in the latch.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to just go inside, and it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do to put the brakes on.

‘Marla, stop. We can’t.’ He pulled his head up and grasped her gently by the shoulders. Her eyes dragged open.

‘You don’t mean that,’ she whispered, even as he reached down and stilled her fingers against the strained buttons of his jeans.

‘Yes, I do. You don’t want this. Not really.’

The desire in her eyes spluttered to a halt and died, replaced by despair and the glitter of unshed tears.

‘God, I’m so sorry, Gabe. What the hell am I doing?’ He hauled her back into his arms as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

‘Shhhhh, shhhh, it’s okay. It’s the shock, Marla. It does strange things.’

He counted to ten, trying to force his mind away from how good she felt as she buried her face in his neck.

‘It’s a natural reaction. Kind of life-affirming, if you like. Sometimes, when we stare death in the eye it can tap into our basic survival instinct and makes us... well, horny. It’s procreation. All that circle of life stuff.’

He knew his words sounded dry and textbook, but that’s exactly what they were. It was part of the funeral directors’ unwritten handbook to be prepared for relatives who could mistake their heightened emotions of grief for sexual attraction, but up until now he’d never actually experienced it firsthand. He wanted Marla to feel those emotions for him more than anything else in the world, but not like this.

‘But you stare death in the eye all the time,’ she mumbled with a shaky laugh, her breath warm against his skin. ‘So what does that make you?’

He laughed softly.

‘Frustrated, in your case. Go inside Marla. You need some sleep.’

A bright shard of dawn sunlight slanted through the blind and half-woke Melanie from her slumber. As she flipped over away from the window in protest she registered the unexpected smoothness of Egyptian cotton against her cheek. Her eyes snapped open as memories of the night before pieced themselves together like a macabre jigsaw in her head.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She’d killed Marla’s dog.

She winced in horror at the memory of that sickening thud. It was a miracle she hadn’t been injured herself; the dog had bounced hard enough against the front of the car to send him flying clear over the roof.

She shivered. It had all seemed like such a simple plan. Slip back to work, grab the note from her desk, and then hotfoot it out of there again. Nowhere in the plan had she accounted for the possibility of Gabe being at the funeral parlour, or even worse, of him being outside on his motorbike. He couldn’t see her there, he just couldn’t. She’d panicked and stamped down too hard on the accelerator. In her desperation to get away she hadn’t noticed the huge dog until he’d bolted out into the road right in front of her. He hadn’t stood a chance.

Oh God.

Would they call the police?

Would she lose her job?

It was all way too much to consider at just after five in the morning. Melanie picked up the metaphorical broom in her head and swept all the horrible thoughts into a dark, unvisited corner to revisit later. Or not at all, if she could get away with it. Decision made, she closed her eyes, turned over again, and settled back into the warm crook of Rupert’s naked shoulder.

Marla closed her eyes as her mobile trilled yet again. She’d avoided Rupert’s numerous calls and texts so far, because she couldn’t bear to hash over the events of the previous night or listen to his apologies for Bluey’s escape. It wasn’t that she was mad with him, exactly. She knew in her heart that it had been a horrible accident. Rupert hadn’t meant to be so utterly useless in a crisis, and his badly chosen words hadn’t been malicious or intended to hurt her.

She just felt incredibly let down. He hadn’t been the rock that she’d desperately needed last night. Which led her thoughts to Gabe, who had.