Authors: Lisa Eugene
He’d tried to stay distant, tried to keep her out of his world, for her sake, but circumstances had not allowed that. Hell, his overwhelming need for her had not allowed that. Still musing, he succumbed to a yawn, listening to her loud snores vibrate off his chest. He smiled, pulling Maggie in closer, and thought about Thomas’ words.
Different
. This full-figured fastidious nurse from Brooklyn with a courageous spirit, impassioned heart, and unwavering sense of right and wrong. This woman whose stomach grumbled nosily and who snored like a freight train. She was definitely different.
Oh, how he loved her.
Gabe was running. Running faster and faster on a race track, zipping around in an eternal circle. His legs were churning, feet slapping hard against the asphalt. His arms were pumping maniacally, trying to propel him forward. Sweat dripped off his burning face, almost rendering him blind. A cramp stabbed painfully into his side, but he had to keep running. He had to catch the car that raced ahead, spinning out of control. He was almost there. If only he could go a little faster. His legs were slowing against his will, growing lethargic and impaired. He lost control of them. They became fixed like marble pillars, immobile, while his arms continued their frenzied pumping. The explosion he knew was coming blasted towards him, the impact shattering his legs, scattering the chunks of marble all over the track. He screamed his anguish, screamed until his throat was raw and on fire. Fingers pointed at him, accusing and recriminating. Asking him why he didn’t just run—
Maggie heard a ragged cry against her ear and felt the bed jerk. She shook sleep away and turned just in time to see Gabe bolt straight upright in bed. His breaths were coming in short rapid bursts, and his naked skin was sleek and shiny with moisture. She sat up and pushed away the wet hair from his face, searching for his eyes. It was just before dawn, and she could barely make out his face in the murky room.
“Gabe? Gabe?” she called to him gently, realizing he must have been having a nightmare.
She whispered his name again when he didn’t respond. “It’s okay. It’s me, Maggie. I’m here.”
At the sound of her name, his eyes seemed to focus, the swirling mist fading away his stupor. He blinked then and turned his head to her.
“Oh, shit!” he rasped, then forked his fingers through his damp curling hair. He sank back onto his pillow, pulling her down with him.
She chewed her bottom lip, snuggling against his body. She was unsure of what to say. Words seemed trivial at the moment, and she knew they’d be consumed by the vortex of swirling emotion. Her palm rested over his heart and caught the reverberations of its frenetic pounding. The air around them was heavy and static, and the dim light filtering in blurred the edges of the room, causing the walls to seem endless.
“I was dreaming about my father.”
His deep scratchy voice scraped over her skin. She held herself stock still, afraid to move a muscle.
“I was dreaming about the day he died. We were racing my car at the track. We would usually race together, but he wanted to take the car out first. I’d been working on it. I had just made repairs to the engine the previous night. It used to be a hobby of mine. We wanted to test it out. He…it spun out of control. Hit the barrier. Exploded.”
“Oh, Gabe. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her heart bleeding. Her sentiment seemed inadequate. The grief in his voice was palpable.
With a sigh he rolled towards her, his face just a few inches from hers on the pillow.
“Have you figured out who I am, Maggie? Did you see the emblem on the gate?” His words were so quiet she had to strain to hear them.
She frowned. She still had no idea. The emblem had looked familiar, but she hadn’t been able to place it. She shook her head.
“Gabriel Masters. Masters Communications.”
Maggie gasped.
Holy shit!
Her eyes widened with the knowledge. “You mean
the
Gabriel Masters?”
He nodded slowly, latching on to her gaze. “The one who stood trial for his father’s murder eight years ago.”
Maggie’s palm came up to rest on his cheek. She couldn’t suppress her shock. She remembered the very public trial. She remembered the newspapers, the television reports, the protests when he’d been exonerated. The media had been in a frenzy over this story. The young, privileged son of a wealthy business mogul on trial for his father’s murder. His father and grandfather had been pioneers. The family owned one of the largest telecommunication companies in North America
Greed. Power. Wealth. It had all the makings of a juicy story. Irresistible. She struggled to remember the details. It was thought he’d killed his father to inherit the family fortune. She hadn’t paid much attention to the trial. She did remember feeling sorry though for the young man who had been found guilty by the media before the trial had even started. He’d been vilified. He’d spent a considerable amount of time incarcerated because they thought he was a flight risk. It must have been a nightmare. In the end the jury had ruled it an accident. It had been a close decision that had sparked many debates and public protests. Why would he say he’d killed his father?
“Gabe, it was determined to be an accident.”
She watched pain darken his tormented eyes. His lips thinned to a slash. “It was my fault. I was home from school. I’d just finished tough exams. I had a lot of energy to burn. I pleaded with him to come race with me,” Gabe explained rapidly. “He didn’t want to go, Maggie. I convinced him. He did it for me! He could never say no to me.”
“Gabe, it was an accident. You couldn’t have known,” she insisted.
“I was only thinking about myself. I was selfish. I killed him.”
Maggie had to blink back tears at the tremor in his voice. His guilt was so deeply embedded she didn’t know how to smash the thick layers to get through to him. Surely his family had been supportive.
“Was Thomas there? Your mother?”
Gabe shook his head. “No. Thomas never enjoyed racing. He never enjoyed the things that father and I did together. Mother never came either. Like me, they were both devastated after the crash. Mother barely spoke to me. Every time she looked at me I saw despair in her eyes. Thomas took over the family responsibilities. I left.”
She let a finger run over the cleft in his chin. “You have to forgive yourself, Gabe. It wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. There’s so much good in you.”
“I hurt so many people. I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve so much better.”
She let the pads of her fingers play over his lips, and then she leaned forward and swept her lips against his in a feather-light kiss. Her heart ached for him. She knew her words did nothing to free his mind from his emotional quagmire. She felt helpless. The only way she knew to sooth him was to give him absolution with all the love she had in her heart. She snaked her arms around his broad shoulders and drew closer to him, opening her mouth and her body to let him in.
He was gone from bed when she awoke, disoriented. She’d slept in so many different places in the past few weeks that for many moments she didn’t know where she was. There was a tangle of soft cotton sheets woven around her, and evidence of robust sex in the delicious throb of her body. She remembered the conversation she and Gabe had had in the wee hours of the morning, and she dove headlong into awareness. Gabriel Masters.
Holy shit!
It was still hard to believe that her hot hobo was this infamous man. Hard to believe that he still blamed himself for an accident that occurred so long ago. He’d mentioned Masters Communication back at the rustic house and seen the MC emblem. Her brain had woven the threads, but had not been able to tie them together.
She hopped out of bed and padded across the luxurious carpet to the adjoining bath. Picking up her damp clothes hanging on the towel rack, she clicked her tongue. She’d washed them last night before bed. Her clothes were still soggy and now wrinkled beyond recognition. Plus, last night Gabe had insisted on helping her get undressed and tucking her in. She smiled. It was more like he was eager to get underneath her shirt. So much so that he’d caused a small tear in the front. She loved the fact that he was so touchy-feely, but the man was a menace to her meager wardrobe.
Maybe she could borrow something from Victoria, but what would she do until then? She couldn’t very well walk around naked. An idea formed, and although not loving it, she figured she had very little recourse. She went back to the bedroom and started rummaging through Gabe’s clothes.
God!
Almost everything he owned was black and huge! She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a large tee, her gaze painfully assessing the clothing. She’d have to make some alterations.
At least she’d have something to wear, and if she could find Victoria and borrow some clothes at least no one would see her in her makeshift ensemble. A few hours later she poked her head into the hall and made sure it was clear. She tip-toed out, hoping to sneak to Victoria’s room. When she found it empty she decided to brave it down the quiet back stairs. Maybe she could grab something quick to eat and locate Victoria in the process. Stepping off the last landing she almost jumped to the ceiling when the butler from last night seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
“Ms. Lawson. How lovely to see you,” he intoned formally.
Maggie clutched the banister, her blue eyes wide like the infamous cat who’d swallowed the canary. She almost turned around to look for her mother.
Ms. Lawson?
“We missed you for breakfast. Please, lunch is now served.” He swept a gloved hand in front of him, indicating she should precede him down the hall and into the dining room.
“AAaaa…ummm…no, I…” she stammered inanely, but for the life of her could not produce a cogent excuse for declining. She looked down at her makeshift outfit and girded her resolve.
She was a hot mess!
There was no way she could deal with facing Kate and suffering her excruciatingly polite censure. The stoic butler looked as though it was his sworn duty to make sure everyone made it to the dining room for lunch, and panicking, she thought of David and serious contemplated initiating a shaking frenzy. She could say she was having a seizure and claim she had to run back to the room to get her medication. She sighed, dismissing the idea as crazy. Plus, as efficient as the butler seemed, he’d probably produce a bottle of seizure meds from his pocket and pop it into her mouth as he ushered her into the dining room. Maggie stood rooted.
“No, thank you. I think I’ll just take something back to my…” she was starting to speak, when further up the hall a pair of French doors opened and soft laughter flowed into the passage.
Maggie groaned inwardly when she saw Kate emerge with a gaggle of a least six or seven tittering women at her heel. Each woman turned to stare at her with condescending appraisal; each was attired in designer pastels and growing a set of pearls from her neck.
Maggie could feel the blood drain from her face. It was too late for her to duck away as Kate fastened her frosty gaze on hers. Kate was the first to step forward, her face a blank mask and a plastic smile on her lips. Maggie saw her disapproving gaze dash over the black jaggedly ripped cut-offs and the oversized black tee that clearly belonged to her son. The shirt had been so long that Maggie had knotted it in front of her. A decision she sorely regretted now—like leaving her room in the first place. She wanted the earth to open and swallow her up.
Gabe’s mother glanced back at her friends then spoke evenly. “Good afternoon, Maggie. Will you be joining us for lunch? I had a prior engagement with friends from the club that couldn’t be rescheduled on such short notice. You are most welcome to join us. We are about to go into the dining room now.”
Maggie stared at the woman. Her words were welcoming, but she viewed her as though she was a stain on her perfectly tailored suit.
Did this woman ever say what she was truly thinking?
“No, thank you,” Maggie retorted, glad her vocal cords were still functioning. She turned to leave, noticing that the astute butler had sprung into action and ushered the curious group into the dining room, leaving her alone with Kate.
“By the way, do you know the whereabouts of my son? Gabe.” Kate’s previously moderate voice suddenly plummeted to lower temperatures.
Maggie shook her head, trying to remain calm.
“I haven’t seen him.”
Kate pursed her lips, regarding her suddenly with angry suspicion. “Are you certain?”
She sighed, growing annoyed.
I have him tucked under my shirt! In fact I’ve kidnapped both your boys. I shrunk them both down and hid them. These aren’t boobs. One’s lump is Gabe and the other is Thomas!
Why would she lie?
She watched Kate’s face pull tight, her gaze taking slow inventory of Maggie’s face and body.
“I don’t know where you come from, but here we do not parade around like a common trollop.”
So much for not saying what she’s thinking!
Surprisingly, Maggie felt her embarrassment drain away. It was instead replaced by irritation and disbelief that the woman before her could be so judgmental. Kate knew nothing about her, yet was quick to cast aspersions. It was only for Gabe’s sake that she bit her tongue and decided not to go as David would say, all
Brooklyn
on her.
“I’d expect my son to demonstrate better judgment—” Kate was saying.
“That’s enough, Mother.” A steely voice cut through the moment.
Maggie turned, expecting to find Gabe, but her brows shot up as Thomas approached them. His face was impassive as he regarded his mother.
“Maggie is Gabe’s guest and should be afforded courtesy as such.”
Maggie watched Kate’s ire recede, but her lips pinched like withering fruit.
“She’s important to him,” Thomas added mildly, and Maggie watched the woman’s eyes dim before she turned stiffly and, without a word, headed for the dining room.
The air was left with an electric charge that Maggie felt singe the fabric of her lungs. She exhaled deeply, hoping to soothe the discomfort and quell the tumult inside her.