Now that her temper had cooled, she had to admit she owed him an apology.
She shoved her chair away from the makeshift office she’d set up in her bedroom and crossed to the open nursery door. “Leonie?”
Her older neighbor—a treasured friend—looked up from her tabloid magazine as she sat curled in the daybed built into the window seat. “Yes, dear?” She set aside her gossip rag and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich. “What can I do for you and please don’t say ‘nothing.’ I’ve barely done anything all day, and I’m going to feel guilty taking that generous paycheck your hot major is offering me.”
“How generous?” she asked, wondering how in the world she would repay him.
“Sinfully generous, dear, and he was a total doll about the offer. Said he was doing his bit to help the economy.”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes, turning away and checking on her son asleep in his bed. Seeing him sleep so peacefully, so much more content as he kept his food down better these days, warmed her soul. She had so much to be thankful for and instead she’d been stomping her foot and pitching a fit.
Leonie cleared her throat. “He drove back in about an hour ago.”
Gabrielle didn’t bother asking who Leonie meant. “I didn’t see that.”
“Ah, so you were watching out the window.” She padded softly across the room and stopped by Gabrielle, covering her hand on the crib railing. “Go enjoy the rest of the evening. I have this. Really. I slept most of the day away and what little time I was awake, I was thoroughly enjoying this amazing home.”
“Thank you, Leonie.”
“For what?”
“For loving my son.”
The older woman patted Gabrielle’s cheek. “I love you, too. Now go play. Enjoy being young.”
“Thanks again.” Gabrielle pressed a quick kiss to her son’s forehead and turned toward the hall door.
“Gabrielle, sweetie? Freshen up.”
She looked down at her wrinkled T-shirt and torn jeans, coffee stains dotting them. It would be fun to dress up, to have time to do more than scrape back her hair in a hair tie. Smiling, she raced toward the connecting door back into her room and yanked open her small suitcase. Not much to pick from, but clean beat coffee-stained any day of the week.
Fifteen minutes later, she felt more like her old self in a black mini dress with red leggings, her hair loose around her shoulders. Each teasing brush along her neck reminded her of her dreams of Hank.
Was she apologizing so she could have those fantasies back and maybe bring them to life? Possibly. She wasn’t sure. But she did know that for the first time in a year, she was truly…hopeful.
Her fingers trailed down the polished mahogany banister as she made her way downstairs, the sound of banging pots in the kitchen drawing her feet toward the back of the house. Standing at the six-burner gas cooktop built into the island, Hank lifted lids and stirred, three different pots going at once. A white apron splattered with red sauce looked delightfully incongruous on his hulking body. A lacy little hand towel was draped over his shoulder. An arm’s reach away, he snuck bites from a serving tray with fat strawberries, soft white cheese and crostinis. Savory scents of something Italian filled the air until she salivated for everything in the room, the food and the man.
Tasting some kind of red sauce, Hank looked over the spoon at her. “Before you lose your cool, I’m cooking for me, not for you.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep, wouldn’t want you to think I’m steamrolling you or anything.” He dropped the spoon into the porcelain sink.
“You can call off the guards. I come in peace.” She leaned against the door frame, and yeah, she relished every second of the way his eyes were drawn to her legs. The tingle of feminine power felt good, really good.
But first things first.
“Hank, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I stand by what I said, but not the way I said it.”
“Fair enough.” He placed the lids back on the simmering pots of whatever aromatic magnificence they held. “And I apologize for not consulting you.”
“You were right that I would have turned you down,” she conceded with a grace he deserved.
He tugged the little towel from his shoulder and dried his hands, the island still looming between them. “And you were right. Perhaps springing the surprise on you during Max’s first night home from the hospital wasn’t the best timing.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Something unsettling flickered in his cobalt-blue eyes, so fast there and gone it barely registered. “I take that to mean you’re not packing.”
“Staying here is best for Max.” And was it best for her? It certainly shook her from her safe little routine.
Could she indulge in a no-strings affair with Hank? To hell with how different her life was now. What did it matter if this was just short-term? Even considering it made her tingle all over with the possibilities, what tonight might hold.
She shoved away from the door frame and crossed to the granite-topped island. “I’ll admit, I’m frustrated that I can’t give him everything he needs, but I recognize that a hotel and a worn-out mom may not be in his best interest.”
He tossed the wadded towel from hand to hand. “Does that mean Leonie can stay, as well?”
“She needs the money.” She circled around to him.
“And you need the help?”
“Don’t push your luck.” She snatched the hand towel from him in midair and snapped his hip.
He stepped closer, the air simmering between them as tangibly as the food in those pots. “I certainly don’t want to blow my chances of getting lucky.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. Before she could close it, Hank popped a plump strawberry between her lips. As she bit down, the explosion of flavor on her already heightened senses made her a strawberry fan for life. Life felt sharper, crisper—better—with Hank around.
She shifted her attention to the platter to give herself time to pull her thoughts together. “I’m guessing this is supper?”
“A late one, yes.”
The way he said those last words felt layered somehow with a deeper meaning. But then, maybe she was searching for things she wanted to be true. “I’m here, and starving. I’m glad you waited.”
* * *
Hank watched Gabrielle across the table from him, their lanai dinners becoming a habit. A very pleasurable habit. He’d spent the afternoon pulling this together for her, hoping to make up for their fight. Lights hung from the trees, like the party next door from last night. He’d cued up music, classical, like the concerts he remembered Kevin talk about attending with her and how he’d sworn his ears were bleeding by intermission.
Hank’s smile faded as he looked across the table.
She was right about how it always seemed to come back to the three of them. Tonight, he needed to make this memory about just the two of them, damn it. If he couldn’t do that, then he needed to walk away clean rather than tormenting them both.
He was still grateful as hell she’d forgiven him and agreed to eat supper. She’d even seemed to genuinely enjoy his homemade tomato basil sauce. His repertoire of meals wasn’t that huge, but since spending a ton of money on help for her hadn’t gone so well for him, he decided to opt for something more personal. She’d grown up in a family of more modest means, so he figured he might gain more traction in showing her how he’d come from a more down-to-earth family than their current media status would indicate.
She swirled her spoon through the dessert, a simple bowl of lemon sorbet. Baking a dessert stretched beyond his cooking talents.
“More?” he asked.
Groaning, she set her spoon aside. “I’m stuffed. Really. You went above and beyond, and you’re making me feel guilty.”
“You’ve been so focused on Max—and I can understand why—it seemed to me that you could use some extra TLC, as well.”
“Well, you’ve certainly put together an amazing evening.” She toyed with the hurricane globe in the middle of the table. “Who knew you’re such a great cook and entertainer?”
“My sisters and I took turns setting the table. As for the minimal decorations—” he tapped the globe, with beads and a couple of Mardi Gras masks beside it “—blew over into the yard from the neighbor’s party last night.”
“Who would have thought a millionaire could be so thrifty.”
It was billionaire, actually, but pointing that out was more likely to send her running rather than draw her in. Knowing that about her, actually drew him in. “My family didn’t start out with all this. My dad was a regular guy, serving in the military. He earned his way through the ranks.”
“You must be very proud of him.”
Her comment startled him. People so often asked what his old man thought of him. Nobody turned that question around. “I am, actually. He’s an amazing guy. When he was a squadron commander in Guam—”
“Guam? You lived in Guam?”
“Awesome place, like Hawaii but without a crazy crush of tourists.” He preferred to remember it that way, not to think about darker times for his family after his mother died. “I’d like to take you there sometime.”
“Sounds like you miss the old days, when things were simpler for your family.”
Another insightful comment from the hot chick across the table, the one who totally ignored his comment about taking a trip together. He was flying into dangerous territory here, talking about his past. Lots of painful memories just waiting to shoot him down. But if he wanted to get further with Gabrielle—and he did—then he needed to suit up and soar right in.
“Life was easier before, without question.”
“When did it all change?” She toyed with a feathered mask tangled up in purple beads.
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you’re not related to Sigmund Freud? You are half German, after all.”
She swept up the mask and placed it over her eyes. “I am a woman of mystery.”
Her smile sent a bolt of desire straight through him. Even if being with her could only lead to a crash and burn, he wanted her. Bad.
The mask fell away and her smile turned sheepish. “But no, I’m not Freudian, just curious about who you are. You keep so many walls up. I’m only just realizing how much you let Kevin do the talking.”
“What do you want to know?”
“When did things change for you, growing up? What made you go from admiring your dad to keeping your distance?”
Pinpointing one specific event was tougher than he would have thought. “In stages. My mom’s death certainly shifted the whole family dynamic. She was a real rock for our family during all those moves. While I say she was a rock, she was actually the most flexible, lighthearted person in the family.”
She touched his hand lightly. “What was her name?”
“Jessica. The world thinks of my dad and Ginger as a couple, and honest to God, I don’t begrudge them what they’ve found together.” He stared into the flame until the world blurred. “My mom gets lost in the mix. No one remembers her.”