White Collar Cowboy (2 page)

Chapter Two

Lauren didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t pull away. She might be a workaholic, but she was also a woman. Twelve years she’d worked with this man. This smart, gorgeous man. Video conferences and phone calls. Face-to-face meetings and contract negotiations. He’d starred in her fantasies more than once. But then the workday dawned and she’d shoved her attraction aside. Work hard, stay focused. Isn’t that what her dad had taught her?

And look where it had gotten her.

His heart drummed a steady beat under her cheek. She was dying to pull the shirt from his shoulders, to see how far up his arm the tattoo went. Instead, she draped her arms around his waist, loosely holding herself against him. She didn’t know the protocol for hugging a former colleague—one she’d imagined naked—but she was pretty sure burrowing herself into his chest wasn’t it.

His warmth seeped into her, making her feel … too much. There weren’t any obstacles between them now, but she wouldn’t allow herself to become emotionally attached to a man who lived in another country, no matter how good he felt against her. She had enough to worry about right now, thank you very much.

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled and broke the hug, needing some space to breathe. Gavin kept hold of her arms, staunching her retreat. Lauren glanced at his hands. “Why are you hanging on to me?”

“You’re shaking,” he said simply.

Irritation settled in, at herself for the choices she’d made, at Gavin for looking so damn good when her life was going to shit.

“Yeah, well, it makes me nuts to think of what I’m forced to leave undone.”

“You said it yourself, it’s the nature of business. It says a lot about you that you care so much, but you’ve got to let it go. It’s just a job,” he said again, annoying the shit out of her.

She jerked from his hold. “Just a job? So, you’re saying I’ve wasted twelve years by dedicating my existence to this company?”

He took a step back, his expression hardening. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m offering some perspective. You still have your knowledge. They can’t take that from you. You still have your health, your
life
, Lauren. I’m saying the job is replaceable.”

Like her.

Annnd hello, anger.

Gavin was right. They’d fired her, so let them figure out what to do about her clients, she thought bitterly. She wouldn’t worry about it anymore. She wouldn’t.

She hoped they didn’t dump all the shit in Gavin’s lap, but that wasn’t her problem anymore either.

To hell with all of this. Maybe they’d done her a favor by letting her go. She could do anything she wanted now. She could move to a new city, find a family-friendly company to accommodate the life she was about to find. She could go to work for the competition. She could … yeah, she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make any important life decisions.

First up, vacation. Who cared if she had to do it alone? Lauren liked herself well enough, certainly she could stand her own company for a few weeks of … something.

“You’re right, Gavin. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Lauren.” He didn’t meet her gaze. “Please don’t thank me,” he added softly.

She tried not to be hurt. He didn’t want her gratitude? Fine. Whatever. One heartbreak at a time. Just as leaving this place would draw the curtain on her career with Clearwater, distance would erase the feel of his arms around her, wash his warm, masculine scent from her memory. He felt sorry for her—his
former
co-worker—and sought to make her feel better. A stolen moment of comfort, nothing more.

“Time to go.” She slung her briefcase over her shoulder and grabbed her purse, going over vacation possibilities in her head. Maybe she’d throw caution to the wind and head to the airport without a plan. Take the next available flight to anywhere and see where it led her.

She turned to find Gavin watching her as if she were a bomb he had to diffuse. Had she been contemplating out loud? Rather than find out, she asked, “Any suggestions for a great vacation spot?”

“I don’t know about you, but I like privacy when I get away.”

“You take much time off?” Where did he go? Who did he go with? Lauren suddenly found herself wondering who he spent time with, what kind of women he was attracted to. Twelve years and she really didn’t know anything about his personal life.

“Several weeks a year. A few random days here and there. Don’t you?”

She snorted. “Hardly.”

The warmth of his smile washed over her, sparking nerve endings all over her body. Christ, the man was gorgeous.

“I’ve got a great little hideaway. Private strip of beach, no Internet service.” His eyes practically melted as he took on a faraway expression. “It’s perfect.”

Lauren laughed, easing the tension in her shoulders that had taken root at lunch. No Internet? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being so isolated. Who did that these days? “Perfect for who?”

He studied her for a moment, as if trying to figure her out. Then, he reached into his pocket and brought out a set of keys. She didn’t speak as he maneuvered a single key off the ring.

What was he doing?

He reached for her, his fingers warming the back of her hand as he pressed the key into her palm. “For you.”

“What is this?”

“A key. To my house on Galveston Island.”

Clearly, she had passed out in the bathroom and all of this was a dream. In reality, Gavin Mathis didn’t hold her in his arms as if she were something precious, and he certainly didn’t give her a key to his vacation home.

“I see it’s a key,” she said slowly. She couldn’t stop her fingers from curling, drawn to the warmth that crept through her palm. “What I don’t know is why you’re giving it to me.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not a proposition.”

She tramped down her disappointment that he hadn’t planned to whisk her off for the sexual adventure of a lifetime. He seemed like a man who would know his way around a woman’s body. The kind of man who would see to her pleasure as well as his own. And that line of thinking was exactly why she shouldn’t go to Galveston Island.

He was being kind, offering her solitude because he felt bad, maybe even a little guilty since he was still gainfully employed by the place that just shit-canned her. While she appreciated the thought, she didn’t want his pity.

“Thank you, no. I can’t take this.”

She held the key out and he raised his palms to stay her.

“You can. Damn it, Lauren.” He shoved his hands through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “Hang on to it. I’ll text you the address. The house is kept fully stocked. You can help yourself to anything there. It’s quiet,” he urged. “A great place to work stuff out. If you don’t want to go…” He stepped away from her and shrugged as though it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “It’s only a house, Lauren. It’s there if you want to use it.”

She loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. She knew Gavin was originally from Texas, but his time in London had changed his accent. A delicious combination of Southern charm and British grit.

She stopped him as he made it to the doorway. “Why would you do this? We’ve worked together for a long time, yes, but … it’s not like we’re friends.”

He turned, his gaze burning her to the core. “Maybe I’d like to be.”

And with a final jerk of his chin, he was gone.

Chapter Three

“Let me get this straight. He just waltzed in and gave you his house?”

Lauren snickered at her friend’s cautious tone. Of all of them, Taralee was the least trusting of men … and people in general.

“Everybody lets somebody down at some point. It’s inevitable,”
was Taralee’s mantra, but Lauren knew it was her friend’s defense mechanism, her way of explaining away her relationships. Most recently, her complete asshat of an ex who had fooled them all into thinking he was Prince Charming.

A case study in how office relationships were a very bad idea. Taralee had almost lost her job at a prominent magazine over that crap.

“Taralee, don’t be silly. Gavin doesn’t waltz.” Not in the office anyway. She’d seen him waltz a time or two at the various fundraisers they’d attended over the years. It defied the laws of gravity for a man so large to be graceful. She snorted. “Stalked, would be more accurate. I swear, the man can own a room just by being in it.” She’d seen more than one powerful executive bow to Gavin’s commanding presence.

And he’d never lost a negotiation. Those who went up against him left with the security of believing they had gotten their way, when, in fact, it was Gavin who’d won. “But, to be honest, I have no idea how he came to be in my office. When I came out of the bathroom, he was just … there.”

“Come on, Lauren. Admit it. You’d like him to own you, too.” Faith laughed, tempting Lauren to mash the end button on the three-way call. Without a doubt, Faith would try to convince her to go to Galveston Island.

“Own? No.” Faith may enjoy that type of submission with her boyfriend, but it wasn’t Lauren’s thing. Still, her thighs tightened at the idea of going to her knees in front of Gavin, of taking him in her mouth while his heated gaze urged her on.

“But, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a spin, now would you?” Taralee asked, as though reading her thoughts.

“I’m not stupid.” Lauren laughed. “But I won’t be owning or spinning or any other naughty ideas you can conjure. Gavin won’t be there. He said he was leaving tonight to head back home. Besides, we work together, remember? It’s not like that between us.”

“Lauren. Sweetheart,” Taralee sighed. “You can’t use work as an excuse anymore.”

“It’s not an excuse. And will you cut me some slack? This whole unemployment thing is going to take some getting used to. Anyway, Gavin has a job an ocean away. Sorry ladies, fantasies will have to stay fantasies. I’ve got a plate full of stuff to figure out in real life.”

“So what’s stopping you from figuring it out from Galveston Island?” Faith asked. “Gavin being in town on the day you are let go, offering you a place to go, those things are definitely signs. You can’t ignore them,” Faith reminded her for the umpteenth time.

Easy for her to say. Faith had everything she wanted. A successful occult shop in the Village and a smokin’ hot boyfriend who adored her. The woman was deliriously happy.

The question was, why did it make Lauren’s chest hurt? She’d always shared in the happiness of her friends, believing herself to be happy as well.

What the hell was going on with her? It was as if being fired had changed much more than where her next paycheck came from.

She suddenly felt empty. Alone in the apartment she loved. Lonely for no apparent reason and desperate for an escape.

“It’s not a sign. It’s a key.” She knew Faith would try to turn this situation into something supernatural. The woman would think wind blowing up her skirt was a sign it was time to get laid.

“Go ahead and make fun,” Faith’s wounded tone lingered through the line. “I’m right, but we’ll talk about that later. We’ve gotten off topic.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and adjusted her earpiece before reaching under the bed for her suitcase. “What more is there to say? I’m unemployed. Jesus, I never thought I’d hear myself say those words.”

“They didn’t tell you anything?” Taralee asked.

Lauren tossed the suitcase to the bed and threw it open. “Something happened that changed the direction of my division,” she said, repeating what her boss had told her at lunch. “After several weeks of consideration, my bosses decided to restructure their business model.”

“And you have no idea what the ‘something’ was?” Faith asked.

“I have no idea about any of it. Not what the
something
was, or what the new business model looks like. They were damned efficient in hiding everything from me.” Lauren still couldn’t believe she hadn’t had so much as an inkling this was coming. She’d been so focused, so dedicated to getting the job done, she’d been oblivious to anything going on outside her office.

“Look, I’ve gotta run,” Lauren said.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Taralee asked.

“She’s going to sexy-man’s house,” Faith said stubbornly.

“I’ll call soon,” Lauren hung up and turned her attention to her closet.

No dresses, no business suits, no heels. Instead, Lauren packed her suitcase with jeans and light, airy blouses. Her collection of T-shirts was pitifully small, but she’d worn the ones she had until they were soft and comfortable, so she threw those in too. For good measure—since she hadn’t decided where she was going—she threw in the two pairs of shorts she owned, a bikini she’d bought for a trip with her girlfriends she’d ended up canceling because of work, and her single pair of sandals.

She packed light because, well, without her business attire, light was all she had left. She could buy anything else she needed once she got to her destination.

“Maybe I’d like to be.”

Gavin’s words warmed her as much as the memory of his hands on her arms. She hadn’t shared his declaration with her friends, wanting to keep a small piece of her afternoon, of her relationship with Gavin, to herself.

God, Gavin’s touch had made her ache in places long ignored. She hadn’t been with a man in ages. It was hard to date when she worked eighty hours a week and traveled at least a week a month. Tempting as it might be, going to Gavin’s wasn’t an option. Now that she knew the warmth of his skin, the feel of his body … being in his space—with his things and his scent all around her—would be pure torture.

She was too emotional right now. For crying out loud, she’d imagined he’d looked at her with lust in his eyes and now she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have him in her life on a personal level.

Because of a key. To an empty house.

As much as she needed to get a grip, Lauren liked the idea of learning more about him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wanted to know the big stuff. Personal, private stuff. His hopes, his dreams, his goals for the future.

Did he like coffee or tea when he got out of bed in the morning? What would it feel like to share that bed with him?

She wanted to know
everything
. She wanted the privilege of being the woman who could call him, any time of the day or night, and have him be happy just to hear her voice. And not because she’d gotten a big contract signed.

Which was why she definitely wasn’t going to Galveston Island. She was waxing poetic about a man she barely knew. Allowing her emotions to romanticize something that wasn’t there.

He’d offered friendship, but Lauren knew how cumbersome an office goodbye could be—the very thing she’d been trying to avoid. People said things they didn’t mean to make the other person feel better.

He’d probably breathed a sigh of relief after making his escape.

With one last look around, Lauren grabbed her bags and locked the door behind her. The cab she’d called to take her to the airport waited at the curb.

“Miss Delgado? Your chariot awaits,” the cabbie joked. He was an older man; his quick smile and charm immediately reminded her of her grandfather.

The cabbie made to reach for her bag and stopped with a shrug when she shook her head. “I’ve got it, thanks.” Stowing one bag in the trunk didn’t seem worth the effort. She climbed in, grateful to have something other than Gavin’s liquid gaze to occupy her mind. “Chariot, huh? Does this ride come with beer?”

His boisterous laugh made her crack a grin.

“It’s not that kind of ride, ma’am,” he winked in the rearview before pulling into traffic.

A drink wouldn’t be remiss right about now. Her emotions were still bouncing all over the place. She didn’t know what she felt … about anything. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

The key Gavin had given her was shoved into the front pocket of her jeans, its sharp edges bit into her hip as a reminder of its presence.

He’d be on his way back to London by now.

Oh hell, it was just a house, right? Empty and secluded and a good place to think, or so he’d said. He’d also said it was just a job, and she was still trying to reconcile
that
little tidbit when the cab pulled up to the terminal a while later. She paid the driver and wheeled her bag inside.

Glancing at the display of outgoing flights, her pulse jumped when she saw a flight to Houston. A quick Google search when she’d gotten home had informed her Houston was where one would fly if one wanted to go to Galveston Island. Not that she wanted to go there. No, it would be better if she went to a hotel somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Get her head together. Have a couple of fruity drinks with silly little umbrellas in them, stop thinking about her hot ex-colleague, and figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

Satisfied with the plan, Lauren approached the ticket counter.

“Where’s your next available flight headed?” At this point, she didn’t care where she went. As long as it was away from here.

The man behind the counter tapped at his keyboard a moment. “It looks like … yes … Houston. It’s a direct flight, leaving in two hours. Only one seat left, ma’am. It’s yours if you want it.”

Lauren sighed. Of course it was.

She could hear Faith giggling in her head.

Lauren’s shoulders squared as she slapped her credit card and driver’s license on the counter.

Okay, universe. You win. Let’s do this.

She was going to Gavin’s hideaway after all.

* * *

Gavin stared out the window of the commercial plane, grateful the first-class seat next to him
was empty. He wasn’t up for company.

He was doing the right thing. He was.

At least, that was the mantra he kept playing in his head. But, it didn’t make him feel any less like an asshole.

It was time for him to go home, although the thought of leaving things the way he had with Lauren made him uneasy.

She’d been angry, rightfully so. Hell, he was angry, too. What he hadn’t expected was the loss that had shone in her gaze, the confusion and heartbreak. She’d made a valiant effort to hide it, but he knew her. He knew the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was deep in thought, knew the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when her ire was up and she was ready to fight, knew the way her lips curved into a satisfied smile when things went her way … or leveled off flat when they didn’t.

What he’d seen earlier had ripped his insides to shreds.

Defeat.

It had taken every ounce of willpower he could muster not to keep her in his arms. To shield her, protect her from harm.

Instead, he’d lied to her.

Gavin sighed and drained the scotch from his glass, the burn oddly comforting considering the stuff tasted like shit. On a normal day, he’d order a beer and be done with it.

Not today.

Fuck. Not today.

Gavin stretched his legs and signaled the flight attendant for another drink. If he kept this pace, he’d be flat-assed drunk by the time he got home. The idea appealed to the guilt churning, along with the cheap scotch, in his gut.

Damn it. He should’ve told her.

A pretty young woman handed him a new drink. He thanked her politely, but didn’t hold eye contact. No point encouraging the interested gleam in her baby blues when Gavin preferred the honey gold of Lauren’s eyes. They complimented the rich chestnut hair he imagined would feel soft as spun silk between his fingers.

He’d love to find out.

Her reminder that they weren’t friends pissed him off. They hadn’t been, so he really shouldn’t care. But he did. A lot.

She was amazing. Time and time again, he’d seen her in action. He’d seen contract negotiations go south, only to have Lauren walk in and tame a boardroom of unruly executives with the patience of a kindergarten teacher and the quiet dignity of a saint. Within minutes, men and women alike would kneel at her feet and eat out of the palm of her hand.

That was Lauren. Focused, calm, cool. She didn’t blow her own horn or demand credit. Like him, her satisfaction came from a job well done.

She’d make a great mom.

Christ. Where had that come from?

“Excuse me, sir. The captain is about to turn on the fasten seatbelt sign for our descent. Are you finished with your glass? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

The pretty flight attendant leaned over a little too far, telling him with her eyes and ample cleavage she was interested in more than whether or not he strapped in.

He should forget about Lauren. She’d hate him for what he’d done.

Gavin downed the rest of his scotch and handed her his glass. He reached in his pocket and brought out some bills. He pressed a folded-up hundred into her hand and kept his tone professional. “Thank you for a great flight, ma’am.”

She glanced at the bill, disappointment marring her features for a second before her game face returned. “My pleasure, sir.” She offered him a tight smile. “Welcome to Houston.”