One Touch of Moondust (15 page)

“I could show you the one that's available,” he offered now.

Kathy's eyes lit up. “I'd love to see it.”

“But don't you think it's a little too far out?” Gabrielle said, still feeling that a move that had turned out to be so right for her might be very wrong for Ted and Kathy. “The neighborhood
is still in transition. It's not what you're used to.”

“But it's on the way up, not down,” Ted countered. “I noticed that as we were driving over.”

“But you should be thinking of buying, not pouring your money into rent,” Gabrielle said, not sure exactly why she was fighting the idea of having these two lovely people as neighbors when they were clearly enthusiastic about the prospect.

“Right now all the property we like is out of our price range. I'd rather rent someplace like this for a while, so we can build our savings,” Kathy said. “Ted, let's go look.”

“I'll stay here,” Gabrielle said, watching as Paul led them away. He and Ted were already exchanging ideas for further development of the neighborhood. Astonishing, she thought as she watched them go.

She was in the kitchen when they came back. Kathy's face was alight with excitement. “It's wonderful,” she enthused. “The second bedroom will be perfect for a nursery. We're going to talk about it some more, but I think we're going to take it.”

She hugged Gabrielle. “I have to get home and put this soccer kicker inside me to bed, but thank you so much for inviting us over tonight. It's been far too long since we've seen you. It would be fantastic to have you and Paul for neighbors.”

“Yes,” Gabrielle said, feeling numb at the speed with which events seemed to be taking place. Decisions had been made tonight she hadn't been consulted on and couldn't begin to understand.

It wasn't until all the guests had left and Paul was stretched out on the sofa that she had a chance to think about her reaction to the prospect of having Ted and Kathy living downstairs.

“Come sit with me,” Paul said.

“I want to get some of this mess cleaned up.”

“It can wait. I want to talk to you.”

Sighing, she went to join him. He pulled her down into his lap, his arms around her waist. The increasingly familiar sense of belonging crept over her as she leaned back against his chest.

“I thought the evening went well,” he said, his fingers idly stroking her stomach.

“Yes.”

“Why so down, Gaby? I thought you'd be gloating. It all worked out, just the way you expected it to. I like your friends. You like mine. Nobody was standing in judgment of anyone else.”

“It was all very civilized,” she agreed testily.

“I thought it was better than that. People actually seemed to be having fun. Our lives are blending together.”

“I suppose.”

He kissed the back of her neck. “Then what's the problem?”

“How can you rent that apartment to Ted and Kathy?” she blurted finally. “It's all wrong for them.”

“How do you figure that? They want two bedrooms. It has two bedrooms. They want a moderate rent. I'm asking a moderate rent. The garden even gives them a place for the baby to play.”

Unexpected tears welled in her eyes. “How terrific for them,” she said.

“Gaby! Don't you want them here?” He sounded confused and dismayed. “They're your friends. I thought you'd love the idea of having them nearby.”

“It's not that,” she said, recognizing that she was babbling incoherently, but not sure exactly what the real problem was.

“That was supposed to be your apartment,” she said finally.

She heard Paul's sharp intake of breath. “I see. I didn't realize you were so anxious for me to move downstairs.”

“It's not that, either.”

“Are you upset because I just assumed you'd want me to stay up here with you?” he asked patiently.

“No. It's… it's the garden.” The minute she'd said it, she felt absolutely ridiculous, but she knew it was the truth. She loved that garden. She'd been waiting for the day in the spring when it would be blooming just beyond their living room window.

“What?” Paul said, clearly baffled.

“I wanted the garden to be ours.”

“It is ours.”

“No. It will be theirs.”

“Did you want us to move downstairs? Is that it?”

She smiled shakily. “Silly, isn't it? I guess that is what I wanted. We worked on that apartment together. I picked out the paint and the Formica for the kitchen. I sanded those floors. I thought of it as ours.”

“But you worked so hard to decorate this one. I guess I thought you'd rather stay here. I can always tell Ted and Kathy that this is the one for rent.”

“That's dumb. This is a perfectly wonderful apartment and you're right, we have gotten it fixed up just the way we wanted it…except for the tub in the kitchen, that is. And Kathy shouldn't have to climb all those stairs.”

“Does that mean it's okay with you, if we rent to them?”

“Yes.”

His fingers stroked even more possessively across her abdomen. “I'm glad it matters to you where we live,” he said softly. “But the main thing is, we're still going to be together. I have to admit that we got past a big hurdle tonight.”

Yes, she thought, allowing herself to indulge
in a feeling of contentment at last. That was one thing that had come out of tonight. They were together, bound more inextricably than ever.

“I had a talk with your friend Theresa,” she told him. “She wants to pay me to help her decorate her place.”

“That's great. Are you going to do it?”

“I thought it might be fun. At least it'll keep me busy until I finally decide what I want to do.”

“Maybe this is what you should be doing with the rest of your life,” he suggested slowly, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “You enjoy it. There's a need for it.”

“Don't be silly. The is just a one-shot deal. It'll keep me from going crazy until I find real work.”

“Maybe,” he said, but there was a more hopeful look in his eyes than she'd ever seen before.

“You really think this could be the answer for me, don't you?”

“Think about it. You seemed awfully happy when you were fixing this place up. You were excited every time you discovered some treasure
buried in a secondhand store. Isn't that what a career should be? Something that's fun, as well as lucrative?”

“But this is more like a hobby.”

“Only because you've treated it that way. It doesn't have to be. It could be good for us, too.”

She drew in a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“It's something we could do together. It would be a natural. You could think up some jazzy little name for the business, even print up cards. When I do jobs, people are always asking me if I know anyone who does decorating for less than an arm and a leg. We could specialize in low-cost but very classy renovations.”

“You might be right. It would put us on an equal footing,” she said thoughtfully, unaware of Paul's sudden tension.

“Meaning?”

“It would put an end to this hang-up you have about me being better than you.”

Paul pushed her aside and stood up, his expression furious. “Dammit, you just don't get it, do you?”

“What's wrong?” she asked as he paced around the room, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Can't you see that this has nothing to do with putting us on an equal footing economically? I want you to be happy. If going back to a brokerage house, putting in endless hours and developing ulcers in a quest for a six-figure income makes you happy, then go for it. My ego can stand it if you make ten times what I do. I love you, Gabrielle. I'm not trying to own you.”

Breathless and wide-eyed, she stared at him. “You love me?”

He stopped pacing and stood gazing down at her. “I suppose I do,” he said as if the thought had just made itself very plain for the first time.

A soft smile began slowly, then blossomed across her face. That warm, melting feeling played havoc with her senses. “Then why are you so far away, when you could be down here holding me?”

After a hesitation that went on so long it almost frightened her into thinking he was having second thoughts, he moved back to her
side at last. She knew as his lips came down hard on hers that simply saying the words did not assure them of an easy time of it from now on, but it was a start. With their feelings out in the open, they could finally begin to make decisions about what was best not just for them as individuals, but for the two of them together. It was unlikely that they would always agree, but they were learning the art and rewards of communication and compromise.

For now, though, his mouth was hot and urgent against hers and problems that might creep up in the future were the last thing on her mind.

CHAPTER TEN

G
abrielle found that decorating Theresa's apartment was an entirely different challenge from selecting the pieces for her own place. The artist's bold personality required more vibrant colors, more unorthodox accessories. Her search for the right things led to the discovery of even more stores that stocked inexpensive used furniture, carpet remnants and even castoff, unrestored antiques.

She came home every day exhausted, but filled with enthusiasm. Her once well-manicured
nails had long since chipped and broken so badly that she had to keep them short and unpolished. She usually had tiny spatters of paint on her eyelashes or the tip of her nose. She rarely dressed in anything fancier than jeans. Her hair was usually pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her arms were constantly sore from hauling her finds home to be repaired and then to Theresa's. Equally filthy and bone-weary, she and Paul fought over the hot water in the evening, more often than not sharing the old-fashioned, oversize tub and a bottle of wine as they talked about their days. She'd never looked less sophisticated or felt a greater sense of contentment in her life.

One night Paul found her already deep in scented bubbles, the kitchen filled with a pattern of soft colors cast from a beautiful Tiffany lamp she'd spent the afternoon cleaning up.

“I like the atmosphere,” he said quietly, standing in the doorway.

Her skin tingled just from the heated expression in his eyes. “Join me,” she suggested.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he
dropped his toolbox on the floor and began stripping off his clothes. The sheepskin jacket fell first, followed by his plaid flannel shirt. He tugged his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans, then lifted it over his head, baring an expanse of chest matted with dark whorls of hair. Work boots were kicked off, then socks tossed aside. His fingers lingered at the snap on his jeans, his eyes filling with amusement as he teased her with a deliberate delay.

Gabrielle took a slow sip of wine and watched, her heart thumping unsteadily in her chest. Lord, the man was gorgeous. She wondered if there would ever be a day when the sight of him didn't set off sparks deep inside her. He stripped off the jeans at last, then the jockey shorts as her breathing set a pace just short of ecstasy.

He slid into the tub, his legs stretched intimately alongside hers. Pink and aqua lights danced across the bubbles.

“Where'd you find the lamp?”

“Hmm?” she murmured, reluctant to shift to a more impersonal mood.

“The lamp,” he said, grinning.

She tried to tamp down her wildly vivid
imagination, which was far removed from lamps. “Down near the Bowery.” Her voice still had a whispery quality.

He stared at her, horrified. “Gaby, I don't want you going down there.”

The delicious mood vanished at once as his sharp tone registered. “It's safe enough in the daytime,” she said, then added pointedly, “it's certainly not that much worse than this neighborhood.”

Her stubborn independence had become a frequent source of minor irritation to him. He was beginning to learn, though, that his objections only caused her to dig in her heels. She restrained a grin now as he reluctantly swallowed more protective advice.

“Are we keeping the lamp?” he asked finally, conceding the argument. “It doesn't look like it would fit with what you've been getting for Theresa.”

“No and it doesn't really fit with what we have here, either, but the price was too good to pass up.”

“Maybe that's because some of the glass is missing.”

For a man who'd bought a run-down building
and envisioned these wonderful apartments, he was amazingly short-sighted about potential when it came to her finds. “Obviously,” she agreed. “But last week I found a woman who does work with stained glass. I think she'll give me a deal on fixing it. I'm taking it over tomorrow.”

“And then what?”

“And then I'll have it in case I ever need it.”

Paul grinned. “Need it for what?”

She splashed water at him with her foot. “Stop pushing. I haven't decided yet about the business.”

“Haven't you?”

“Paul, there might never be another soul who wants to hire someone just to shop the secondhand stores for them.”

“I have a customer now who's interested,” he said nonchalantly, gazing up at the pattern of lights on the ceiling as if her response weren't of the slightest interest to him. It was one of his more infuriating methods for manipulating her.

“If you're not too busy,” he added. “I've told him you're pretty booked.”

Her curiosity was instantly aroused, just as he'd known it would be. She deliberately ran her foot down his chest to get his attention.

“Okay, don't stop now, you rat. Who is it? What is the place like? What kind of look is he after? What sort of budget does he have?”

He met her gaze with feigned surprise. “I take it you're interested after all.”