BULLETPROOF BRIDE Page 16

  He gave her a gentle push. "Go on. I've got a mess here."

  "I'll help you."

  "Nope, there's broken glass all over. Go sing."

  As she turned away, he grasped her arm. "Remind me later to show you what I found in Leo's office."

  Whatever he'd found, she hoped it was worth infuriating Leo. She practiced her set, and Gabe mopped up the Scotch and glass before returning to his table.

  Tessa finished rehearsing, and rearranged her sheet music. The tap of high heels on the wood floor made her glance up.

  The beautiful blond hostess slinked into a chair next to Gabe. Her man-killer body was poured into a turquoise spandex dress that barely covered her … assets. And those assets certainly didn't have a deficit. Her portfolio was designed to accrue Gabe's interest. The blonde touched his arm, leaned closer so her ample breasts brushed his chest and whispered in his ear. He threw back his head and laughed. Blondie responded by cuddling closer.

  Hot jealousy arrowed through Tessa's chest. Breathing hurt. She turned away to stuff sheet music into a folder. No reason to feel upset. She didn't have a claim on the vermin.

  Gripping the folder so hard it was a miracle the paper didn't disintegrate, she stomped down the hall to her dressing room. She slammed the door, wrenched the bolt home. The physical release felt good. She was tired of behaving like a lady. What had being a lady gotten her? A safe, flawless, humdrum life.

  She dropped into a chair in front of her dressing table and shoved aside a jar of cold cream. Her palm itched with the temptation to fling it at the wall. Instead, she slapped the music down on the table's black veneer surface. Not nearly as satisfying, but one couldn't change lifetime habits overnight.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  "Who is it?"

  "Bond, Gabe Bond."

  Her fingers flexed in a stranglehold. "Mr. Bond doesn't politely knock. He barges in like an oversexed gorilla."

  His chuckle echoed through the door. "I'm good, but even I can't get through a locked door."

  "I've seen you. Use one of your picks."

  He chuckled again. "Picks don't work on bolts. But I could kick in the door, if that particular fantasy rings your chimes."

  "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" She stalked across the room, flung back the bolt, and yanked open the door. "It's probably number three on your list of titillating fun."

  His brows furrowed. "I was teasing. What's eating you?"

  You were canoodling with a bimbo, you cretin. She couldn't say that. Her fragile composure snapped. "Just how much is one woman supposed to take? I've had it! I've been robbed and kidnapped. Twice! A marriage I've been counting on for two years just went down the toilet. I'm risking my career by stealing files from my boss and playing hooky as a nightclub singer, only to get bellowed at and cussed out by some lowlife while saving your fanny! My life is in ruins!"

  Her voice rose. "And if that weren't enough, I'm joined at the hip with the most irritating man I've ever known," she was yelling now, "and I'd like to wring his grinning, adrenaline-loving neck!"

  "No need to shout," he said mildly. I can hear you fine."

  "I never shout," she hollered. "Shouting is not dignified! Shouting is not necessary! Shouting is bad for your blood pressure!"

  His mouth kicked up at the corners. "But it sure feels good, doesn't it?"

  Her temperature shot up ten degrees. "Don't you dare laugh at me, you rodent! This is all your fault! My life was perfect until you showed up!"

  "I'm not laughing." His expression carefully blank, he innocently widened his eyes. But amusement shimmered in the jeweled green depths. "Perfect, was it?"

  "I really don't like you," she gritted.

  His lips twitched and he pressed them together. "You've mentioned that. I told you, I don't blame you."

  "Will you stop agreeing with me!" she yelled.

  "Okay. I mean no. Or is that yes?"

  Tessa's hands clenched into fists, and she growled at him.

  Losing the battle for self-control, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Damn, sweet thing, you are gorgeous when you're mad."

  Her temper exploded. She snatched up the cold cream and threw the jar at his head.

  He blinked, ducked. The jar missed by a mile and smashed on the door frame behind him.

  For a brief, satisfying moment, she reveled in his startled expression. Ha! How'd you like that surprise, Mr. Adventure! Almost instantly, cold dismay doused her anger. She gasped. "I could have hurt you! I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

  He brushed blobs of cold cream and stray glass chunks off I his jacket, as his steady gaze studied her face. After a moment, one dark brow arched. His lightning grin flashed. "Feel better?"

  She shook her head. "I feel like a two-year-old. I don't know what's the matter with me, I've never lost control."

  "That's exactly what's wrong, honey. Everybody needs to blow off steam now and then. With everything you've been through, I'm surprised it took you this long. Don't apologize for acting human." He grinned again and glanced over his shoulder. "Lucky for me, you've got lousy aim."

  She sank into the chair, her head in her hands. "I need a few minutes."

  "Sure. I'll wait in the hall." He opened the door, turned back. "I meant what I said. You're beautiful, Tessie." The door gently closed behind him.

  She stared into the mirror. Beautiful? A stranger with wild hair, flushed cheeks and flashing eyes stared back at her. "Who are you?" she whispered. The woman didn't answer.

  She closed her eyes, forcing her rioting emotions back into their steel cage. She couldn't afford to fall apart now. In six hours, she had to go onstage.

  Tessa watched the minute-hand of the chrome clock on the dressing room wall twitch to seven fifty-five. She gulped as the butterflies in her stomach started bungee jumping.

  Valiantly trying to keep from throwing up, she tugged at her neckline for the third time. Why, oh why, had she agreed to this? She wasn't some sexy blues singer.

  A fist pounded on the door, and she nearly jumped onto the vanity top. "Ten minutes, Miss Aron!" a man's voice shouted.

  She pressed her sweaty palms over her churning stomach and groaned. She only sang at home, where no one else could hear. She had a decent voice, but could she carry this off? Leo liked her, but what if the audience didn't? What if Leo discovered she was a fraud and sicced the gigantic Vic on Gabe?

  The door swung open and she whirled.

  Gabe breezed in. "You decent?"

  "Fine time to ask, after you invade the place."

  With a flourish, he pulled a dozen apricot roses from behind his back. "Pour vous, ma belle."

  A lump lodged in her throat. He'd remembered her favorite roses. "You shouldn't have."

  "I believe roses are traditional for opening night. I know I'm supposed to give them to you afterward, and they're usually red, but—" He smiled. "I was never one to stand on tradition. I thought flowers might settle your nerves."

  "Thank you. But I doubt anything will help. Unless you have an elephant tranquilizer handy?" Her hands shook as she laid the perfumed bouquet on the dressing table. "Yesterday morning, I was sitting at my desk like always, then we were in the alley, and next thing you know, I've got the bright idea to audition for Leo. I'm not sure I can do it."

  He gripped her hands. "Buck up, Houdini. You'll knock 'em dead." His warm gaze caressed her. "You look incredible."

  She glanced down at her full-length midnight-blue velvet dress. The close fit and scoop neckline had been her only concession to Leo's demand that she dress sexy. If Drumm didn't like her gown, too bad. "Blue velvet isn't quite in the same league as red spandex, but I suppose it will do."

  He reached up and fingered a lock of hair at her temple."And your hair is pretty, even if you did ignore my suggestion."

  She had refused to wear her hair loose and wavy. Instead, she'd piled the thick mass on top of her head and left random tendrils trailing down her temples and neck. The
soft classical style complemented her gown. "Thank you."

  She risked another apprehensive glance at the clock. "I—I'd better go." Her stomach pitched again, and she groaned.

  "Don't lose it now." Gabe pulled her into his arms. "You've got a lot more going for you than you realize. Believe in yourself, honey. You only have to get through one song tonight."

  She rested her cheek against his chest. His strong, steady heartbeat thudded under her ear. "I'm trying. But I'm not even sure I know who I am anymore."

  "You'll do great." His arms tightened in a hug. "Break a leg." After a reassuring wink, he left.

  Tessa wobbled down the hallway to the backstage entrance feeling like she was about to face a firing squad. She clutched the sparkling silver curtains, waiting for her cue. "One song," she whispered. Since she'd only been hired the day before, Leo had allowed her to start slowly, with a single song this evening. The way she was shaking, she'd be lucky to get through it.

  The musicians hit a crescendo. When the music stopped, the alto sax player spoke into his mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Blue Moon Club is proud to present our newest talent, Patrice Aron."

  Polite applause rang out. She ordered her quivering legs to walk through the curtains, and stood center stage. She couldn't see past the first two rows, but felt a million eyes staring back at her. Her face flushed hot. Her body turned ice-cold and her lips went numb. Her throat constricted. She began to hyperventilate. I can't do this!

  Then she saw Gabe at the front table, practically sitting at her feet. His warm, encouraging gaze caught and held her. You can do it, Houdini, he mouthed. Awareness of everything but him faded. She could almost feel his embrace. Her breathing calmed, and her thundering heart slowed to normal.

  The pianist played her intro. Gabe's wide grin gleamed, and he gave her a thumbs-up. Suddenly, she felt capable of anything. Holding his gaze, she began to sing the wrenching words of unrequited love.

  Gabe's eyes darkened to emerald, his gaze clinging to hers as fiercely as his hands had clung to her hair after his nightmare.

  She started the second verse. Staring into his smoky eyes, a flash of realization exploded inside her. Profound and bittersweet, the pain jerked her heart to a stop.

  She loved him.

  Her voice faltered, and alarm flickered through Gabe's eyes. She stared into the concerned green depths, the well from which she drew comfort, and at the same time the source of her agony. For long moments that felt like an eternity, she struggled for control.

  Then by sheer will, she pulled herself together. She began the finale, singing for him, and him alone. Scalding tears welled behind her eyelids. She sang on, pouring out her heart with her music, knowing she could never tell him any other way. I can't make you love me, if you don't. I can't make your heart feel something that it won't.

  The music slowed, finally ended. Oblivious to the applause, she stood, lost in Gabe's gaze. Hot, silent tears she could no longer hold back spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Her head high, she pivoted and strode offstage.

  She ran down the long, dark corridor, straight for the dressing room. Slamming the door behind her, she threw the bolt. She leaned against the door, gasping for breath.

  She loved Gabe.

  Oh, Lord, how could it have happened? Every self-protective instinct she possessed cried out in horror. Anything but love. Anyone but Gabe.

  He was everything she feared. A rolling stone, allergic to commitment, unwilling to open up, be intimate. He jokingly avoided even the simplest questions. Hadn't she learned anything from the fiasco with Dale? Hadn't she experienced enough gut-wrenching rejection?

  A knock on the wood panel behind her snapped her up, spine straight. "Tessie?" Gabe called. "You okay?"

  She willed the tears from her voice. "I'm fine."

  "You got pretty shook up. But the audience loved you. Next time won't be so bad." The doorknob rattled. "Let me in."

  "I'm changing." Was she ever.

  "Okay, I'll be right here if you need me."

  Bright, panicked spots danced in front of her eyes. No he wouldn't. Because if Gabe found out how she felt about him, he'd run so far so fast, she'd never catch up.

  Calm down. He never had to find out. Two could play emotional hide-and-seek. She dashed the moisture from her eyes, set her jaw and changed her clothes.

  So what if her hands trembled as she unbolted the door and exited the dressing room? Only she knew.

  Arms crossed, Gate leaned against the wall in the corridor, facing her. His worried gaze shot to her face. "You're still pale. You went so white onstage, I thought you were gonna keel over."

  The concern in his low, deep voice made her heart race. She focused on the cleft in his chin. "I've never fainted in my life. I got hit with a little stage fright, that's all."

  Uncrossing his arms, he moved nearer. "Is that why you started to cry?"

  She edged away. If he touched her, her brittle control would shatter. Out of the corner of her eye she caught his puzzled scrutiny. "Probably."

  "It didn't affect your voice. You did good, damn good. You can be proud."

  "Thank you. I'm beginning to realize I'm capable of doing things I never thought possible. Rise to the challenge."

  A slow grin slid across his lips. "I keep trying to tell you that, honey. Maybe by the time I'm done, you'll believe me."

  And maybe by the time he was done, her heart would be hanging in bloody, tattered pieces. She banished the dreadful image and raised her chin. "What's our next move?"

  He nodded, warm admiration in his gaze. "You are definitely a class act."

  Right. She would make sure he left town with that impression intact.

  Even if it killed her.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  After a miserable night, Tessa rose early. She showered, and then dressed in her gray wool suit. She'd wrestled down the demons of self-doubt during the dark, sleepless hours. And won. Today marked a new beginning. Striding out to the living room, she set her purse and briefcase on the arm of the sofa. She'd finished two cups of coffee by the time Gabe wandered into the kitchen barefoot, wearing snug, faded jeans and a dark green T-shirt that accentuated the sparkle in his eyes.

  Squelching the awareness zinging through her nerve endings, she scuttled to his room while he was busy pouring coffee. She quietly pocketed his car keys off the dresser.

  He glanced up as she joined him at the table. "You look like somebody dragged you through a knothole backwards."

  "Thank you. That's one of the nicest things anyone has said to me first thing in the morning."

  "Sorry. That was my way of asking what's on your mind." His eyes narrowed. "How come you're all dressed up?"

  "I'm going to work." She glanced at her watch. "Right now."

  "No way. The doctor told you to take three days off."

  She slammed down her mug and coffee sloshed onto the table. "There is no doctor. You made him up, remember? I'm beginning to have serious doubts about your ability to differentiate your fantasies from reality."

  "Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed." He grinned, his good nature unruffled. "You were at the club until after one, and as far as the bank is concerned you've got another day off. It's the safest choice for now."

  Not bothering to answer, she stalked to the hall closet and shrugged on her coat. Snatching up her purse and briefcase, she swept outside. She made it to the driveway and had the car door open before he caught up with her.

  He slammed the door shut and pinned her against the car with his body. "What the hell?" Bewildered, he stared at her.

  She glared back at him. Enforced confinement with him had chafed her already frazzled nerves raw. After her jolting realization last night, she had to get away for a while. "I'm reclaiming my life."

  "You won't have a life if you don't chill out. You're staying home."

  "Nothing has happened since Gregson's body was found. During the time you've been d
ogging my every step, you've apprehended one heartbroken teenager. You're overreacting." She shoved at his chest. "I'm going to work and you can't stop me." If she buried herself in work, she might be able to forget him for a while, feel something close to normal again.

  He didn't budge. "What are you going to do, get out the motion sickness pills?" His lips quirked in amusement.

  The smug smile clinched it. She stomped down hard on his bare foot.

  "Ow!" He shook his foot.

  She wrenched open the door, flung herself into the seat and slammed the door shut. She reached for the lock just as he yanked the door back open.

  "Hey," he muttered. "That hurt!"

  "I meant for it to hurt."

  "I can't let you do this." He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her out of the car.

  Work was the only sane, stable thing she had left. She wasn't losing her job on top of everything else. She struggled as he hustled her up the driveway. "Let go of me!" She smacked his shoulder with her briefcase.

  He pulled her against his hard body, restricting her movement. "Will you cut that out?" he growled into her ear. "I don't want to accidentally hurt you. But I am not turning you loose."

  Hurricane Gabe had stolen everything, including her heart. He was not taking her independence, too. She kicked him in the shin. "Yes, you are."

  "Damn, Tessa!" He flinched, but hung on. He inhaled sharply, then swooped her up and carried her inside.

  She tried to wriggle free. "Put me down!"

  "Can't afford to. I've only got one good leg left." He carried her down the hallway and into his bedroom.

  "What are you doing? I'm going to be late!"

  "Sorry, sweetheart." He dropped her on the bed. Holding her down with one hand, he rummaged in the nightstand drawer.

  In the blink of an eye, both her wrists were handcuffed to the wooden headboard. "Valentine Gabriel Colton!" she yelled. "Unlock these this instant!"

  "No can do." He stood back and crossed his arms, "Let's see you get out of that, Houdini."

  "Motion sickness pills be hanged, next time I'll feed you rat poison!" Gasping for breath, she yanked furiously on the cuffs, ignoring the metal's cold bite into her tender skin.