As if she were really that concerned for his welfare? She just wanted his damn body.
‘Come up to the studio with me,’ she murmured. Her lashes dropped as she watched her fingers sliding across his chest. ‘I’ve got that last bottle of Bolly we can share.’
He couldn’t believe she really wanted that now. She wanted to use him so she could forget the hurt of losing her house?
Hell, no. She wasn’t getting everything her own way. Not any more.
He tipped up her chin and looked into those mascara-framed, listless eyes. Bent and kissed her. Her arms slipped around him instantly, her lithe body melting, twisting, teasing against his already. It’d be so easy to fall deeper into her delicious heat, to take what was being offered. But what was on offer wasn’t enough. He wasn’t doing it to himself. If it was over, then it was overnow.He had some pride. He wasn’t going to be a boy-toy for her right up to the minute she was ready to discard him and step onto some plane. He had some self-respect. And he was angry.
‘Those bottles aren’t really big enough for sharing,’ he said, trying to keep a lid on it. Trying to ignore how badly his body wanted him just to give in. ‘And I don’t think there’s anything more I can teach you now.’
Roxie watched him stalk over to the house. Her pride reared up, she knew what Gabe liked and wanted. It was what she wanted too. To be free to have some fun. And she’d wanted to get through this last horrendous night having fun with the one guy she knew in the world capable of doing just that. Hell, she thought it was theonlyway she might get through tonight—in a state of mindlessness. And she desperately, desperately wanted to feel him that one last time. Because she wasn’t doing this ever again.
Only he’d just said no. And she was devastated.
She ran up the stairs to the garage to hide before the hit registered and she lost some of her tightly held composure. She faced the almost empty room. She’d sold all the furniture to anantique store—cheaply as she was in such a hurry. And she’d sold the car. That was how she’d gotten her airfare.
She looked down from the emptiness to the phone in her hand. The same as his, fancy and beautiful only he’d gotten hers a sleek silver case. Girly and gorgeous. Unable to resist, she pressed the button to turn it on. He’d loaded a picture of the Blades as her wallpaper. She tested the ringtone. It was the song they’d danced to just the other night. She opened up the contacts. There was only one programmed already. Gabe Hollingsworth. There was a picture and everything. One he’d obviously snapped himself—with a more self-conscious grin than she’d ever seen on him in the flesh. More handsome than ever. She couldn’t bear it.
Glancing up, the first thing she landed on was the fridge. It mocked her with its remaining half bottle of Bolly. She opened the fridge door and chucked the phone in the ice-box in the top. Slammed the door and backed away from it as if it were some bomb she had to freeze to disarm.
Which was how she had to deal with him all over.
Gabe had hit a new low of voyeurism. Standing at the window in his darkened room in the damaged house, he watched her put the phone in the fridge and slam the door. His jaw dropped. Not exactly what he’d expected. But why was he surprised? She was putting all her feelings on ice. And didn’t she do everything to the extreme? She wasn’t just vegetarian, she was vegan. She didn’t just have a vegetable plot, she had a vegetable paddock. When she’d decided to get a gig dancing, she went for the biggest, flashiest show in town. When she’d decided she wanted him as her lover, she’d been fearless in her pursuit. But when things were finished, they were totally finished. No looking back—like her decision to sell the house, her stuff, everything. No phone, no contact. All or nothing.
And she’d put him in the nothing box.
Too many long hours later, he waited at the bottom of her stairs. She appeared mid-morning. Looking awful but beautiful, hiding the lack of sleep damage beneath a layer of make-up thick enough to withstand a nuclear detonation.
‘I’m giving you a ride to the airport.’ He stood to let her past, his body stiff from sitting so long.
‘That’d be great.’ She cracked a smile through the warpaint.
So that was how they were playing it, as if it were all still fun and friendly and meaningless. He’d take her to the airport and let her go, right? It wasn’t fair to try to hold someone back—he knew just how much resentment could build when someone tried to clip your wings.
‘Got your phone?’ he asked as casually as he could given he had shards of glass in his throat.
The smile stayed fixed as she nodded. He saw her gripping her hands together tightly, her fingers locked into each other. He made a thing of starting the engine and then clapped a hand on his forehead. ‘Oh, I forgot something, hang on a mo.’
It took less than a minute to jog through the garage and up the stairs. He used the keys she’d just given him to hand to the lawyer. Apparently he could be trusted with that minion task. Her studio was all but empty—that furniture had already gone, and he’d noticed the car was gone from the garage too. It cut to the quick that she’d chucked the stuff that only days ago she’d held so tightly to her. Sure enough, the phone was there in the ice-box where she’d left it. She had no intention of keeping in touch with him. Gabe forced his blood to freeze, stopping the surging anger from flooding the deep wound she’d gouged inside him. He had to stay cool on this. So she was the first woman todump him—maybe that was why he was so bothered. Maybe it was all just hurt pride.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her stare straight ahead as he drove her away from the house she’d loved.
She didn’t even blink.
Roxie didn’t say a word the entire drive to the airport. Her throat had seized. It was too much to hope he’d just drop her in the two-minute car parks right outside the terminal. Of course he didn’t. He parked in the expensive parks, insisted on carrying her bag in and even filled in a luggage tag for her while she checked in.
She was going straight through the security clearance; she couldn’t delay getting away from him. She was about to lose it entirely. She folded her arms tight around herself, gripping her upper arms with her hands, holding all the agony inside.
It hurt to see him so at ease about her leaving. Which was yet more proof it was the right call to have made. She couldn’t believe it when his expression warmed to tease-level as he cupped her face and tilted it up towards him.
Yeah, thank goodness he’d said no to her last night. From this one touch now, she knew she’d never have been able to pull off a last night of nothing but passion. She’d have clung to him, begging for everything he never wanted to give.
He’d meant the phone as a friendly gesture. It was kind of him. But she didn’t want kind or friendly. He was supposed to be herlover.It was supposed to have beenonce.Only it had been once every which way and then some. And there’d been the fun, the conversation, the laughter, the way he’d held her, that had all led to... something she couldn’t bear to define.
But he was redefining them in a way that was even worse. Concerned and caring, wanting to stay in touch as afriend.It was humiliating when what she really wanted was...
No.
