Make Me, Sir
Page 63
After today, if she still considered him anything like her father, Marcus would paddle her ass.
“We’d be pleased to have you join us for lunch here,” Mrs. Renard said.
“He can’t stay,” Gabi announced, her voice deliberately rude. She frowned at him. “I’m afraid I’m occupied today, Marcus. It’s a shame you didn’t call before you wasted your time.”
Her mother gasped, and her father’s face turned flat.
Marcus laughed. There she is, my little brat. Now to show her that her behavior wouldn’t drive him away. “You can spit at me all you want, Darlin’,” he said, cupping her cheek and forcing her to meet his eyes. “Do bear in mind I deal with drug dealers, murderers—and worst of all, cops, every day. I doubt that you can shock me with your behavior.”
“You don’t want—”
“I do want.” He took her hand, moved his grip to her undamaged forearm to remind her who was in charge, and pulled her to her feet. “I appreciate you letting me interrupt your morning, ma'am, sir.” Without releasing Gabi—she’d make a run for it, he knew—he politely shook hands with her stunned father.
Then he simply dragged his insubordinate sub out of her parents’ house.
She tried to rebel again when he opened the car door for her. “Listen, this is not—I don’t want—”
“Gabrielle.” He cupped her cheek and looked down into her velvety brown eyes. “Get. In. The. Car.”
Gabi scrubbed her hands on her jeans and tried to show an impassive face as Marcus drove through the city. Didn’t he understand this wouldn’t work? Was he like some…some predator that gave chase if their prey ran from them?
“If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode,” he said lazily. He steered the car to the curb and took her hand in his. “We can discuss this right now, or we can wait until after lunch and then have at it. Your only choice is when.”
God, why did the determination in his deep voice turn her insides to liquid? She swallowed, wishing she saw a future for them. But look at him. In a suit, as always.
Then again, the way he’d acted at her parents’ house… He’d been rude to them. That wasn’t like him at all. I’m so confused. “Later. Please.”
“All right, Darlin’.” He brushed her lips with a soft kiss, leaving her longing for more. After pulling a cell phone from his suit, he punched a number and a second later said, “We should get there in about thirty minutes.” The cell went back into his pocket.
“Who was that?”
“I thought since I’ve met your family today, you should meet mine. My grandparents will join us.”
What? She looked at her jeans and peasant top in horror, then stared at him. “Marcus, I’m not dressed for a nice restaurant.” Dear God, is he insane?
His lips quirked. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or insult. You didn’t worry about your appearance when you thought it was only me for lunch.”
Her mouth dropped open. She hadn’t, had she? “Ah…”
“You no longer think I’ll judge you by what you wear. We’re making progress, I do believe.” He tugged at the puffy sleeve of her top, the elastic letting him pull it down to expose her shoulder. He kissed the bare skin and murmured, “As it happens, I rather like this top.”
Great, her clothing was not only too casual, but the kind he’d want to play with. She pulled her sleeve up.
He pulled it down.
She was doomed.
He was still smiling ten minutes later when he turned his car into a drive. She frowned at the sign. “We’re going to the Animal Kingdom?” Mr. Suit and Disney?
“Are you allowed to live in Florida if you don’t like Disney?” He chuckled at the amazed look she gave him. At a guard station, he slowed to give his name and was waved on.
Not long afterward, Gabi stared in wonder as they walked through the African-themed lobby of the Kidani Lodge and down a spiral staircase to the Sanaa Restaurant. Hanging baskets mingled with pottery-jar lamps. Colorful cloth hangings and beaded mosaics decorated the walls. Tree branches seemed to dissolve into the thatched ceiling. She stopped to stare. “This is amazing.”
He smiled. “Wait until you see the view from the windows.” After slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, Marcus set his hand low on her back, guiding her toward a table where an older couple sat. His grandparents. In tan slacks and a short-sleeved shirt, the silver-haired man had keen eyes with a sunburst of wrinkles at the corners, a Roman nose, and a stern jaw. He rose as they approached.
“Gabrielle, this is my grandfather, Ben Atherton, and my grandmother, Abby.” His grandmother had tousled white curls, softly wrinkled skin, and an infectious smile.
Marcus kissed Gabi’s fingertips and finished, “And here is my very reluctant girlfriend, Gabi Renard.”
Reluctant. She would kill him…somehow…the minute they were alone. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Gramps,” Marcus said, “her father is William Renard, a lawyer with Thompson and Dunn International. You might have met him.”
Ben’s bushy brows drew together. “I’ve made his acquaintance, although I don’t recall having him in front of my bench.”
Marcus closed his hand around Gabi’s and murmured, “He doesn’t always sound like it, but Gramps was a judge before he retired.”
I complain about lawyers, so I get to eat lunch with a judge? This so isn’t fair.
“Very into rules and regulations. Pretty narrow-minded, I thought.” Ben tilted his head at Gabi and gave a considering look. “If what my grandson says about you is true, I bet you had him fit to be tied, young lady.”
Her mouth dropped for a second before she recovered. “Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“Please sit, everyone,” Abby said.
Marcus seated Gabi and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back, sugar. I want to change.”
And the bastard abandoned her without looking back.
* * *
After a quick change of clothing in the restroom, Marcus strode into the restaurant. When he saw Gramps sitting alone, he froze, then spotted Gabi at one of the giant windows with his grandmother. The two appeared mesmerized by the giraffe striding past. He let out a sigh of relief, realizing he’d been worried the little sub would flee.
When Marcus sat down, his grandfather glanced at the two women a few feet away. “She’s polite, but she doesn’t intimidate worth a damn. I do believe I like her.”
Marcus snorted. “You would. Unfortunately, the problem is getting her to stay. She thinks I’m the same type as her parents, and you’re right about his personality. Her mother is worse.”
Gramps’s mouth flattened into a line. “Renard is a pompous bastard and wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. You’re nothing alike, son.”
“Hopefully I can keep her around long enough to realize it.”
“We ordered for you, by the way. Your young lady has an adventurous spirit, at least in foods.”
The bread sampler had arrived before the two women returned to the table, laughing and chatting easily. Nana could put anyone at ease, and Marcus smiled. He kept realizing how much Gabi was like her.
His sub’s eyes widened when she saw him. What? Oh, the clothes. After she sat down beside him, he leaned over to murmur into her ear, “I spend most of my time in jeans, sugar. Sorry to disappoint you.”
She grinned. “You’re trying to destroy all my illusions, aren’t you?” She lowered her voice, “By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.”
He choked. And hardened instantly. He gave her a “you will pay” stare, and she actually giggled.
When he looked up, Nana beamed at him in obvious approval. Well then. Now to win over his grandfather. If his grandparents approved, so would the rest of the Atherton clan. Marcus leaned back in his chair and smiled at Gabi. He’d bet her previous Christmases had been formal, cold affairs. Dignified. When he took her to his parents’ home in rural Georgia, she was in for a shock.
“I’ve been admiring your hair, Gabi,” Nana said. “As it happens, I’m thinking of putting a few pink or green streaks in mine just to shock the ladies in my bridge club.”
Marcus’s mouth dropped open, and Gramps sputtered like a badly tuned engine.
“I think you’d shock more than just the ladies.” Snickering at the men, Gabi fingered the blue strand in her hair. “You’re braver than I am—I never planned to do something quite so permanent.”
He’d thought she’d done it as a show of defiance—although the blue was rather odd, considering how she liked coordinating colors. “So why did you?”
“My job has unexpected…benefits.” She gave him a rueful look. “I went to see a teenager who’d had a…bad experience, but she refused to talk with me. Wanted me to leave. But then she said she’d planned to dye her hair.” Gabi’s eyes darkened. “It’s a girl thing, trying to change ourselves as if we can change our lives too.”
Marcus took her hand. He’d have to ask someday how she’d changed herself as a teenager.
“We’d be pleased to have you join us for lunch here,” Mrs. Renard said.
“He can’t stay,” Gabi announced, her voice deliberately rude. She frowned at him. “I’m afraid I’m occupied today, Marcus. It’s a shame you didn’t call before you wasted your time.”
Her mother gasped, and her father’s face turned flat.
Marcus laughed. There she is, my little brat. Now to show her that her behavior wouldn’t drive him away. “You can spit at me all you want, Darlin’,” he said, cupping her cheek and forcing her to meet his eyes. “Do bear in mind I deal with drug dealers, murderers—and worst of all, cops, every day. I doubt that you can shock me with your behavior.”
“You don’t want—”
“I do want.” He took her hand, moved his grip to her undamaged forearm to remind her who was in charge, and pulled her to her feet. “I appreciate you letting me interrupt your morning, ma'am, sir.” Without releasing Gabi—she’d make a run for it, he knew—he politely shook hands with her stunned father.
Then he simply dragged his insubordinate sub out of her parents’ house.
She tried to rebel again when he opened the car door for her. “Listen, this is not—I don’t want—”
“Gabrielle.” He cupped her cheek and looked down into her velvety brown eyes. “Get. In. The. Car.”
Gabi scrubbed her hands on her jeans and tried to show an impassive face as Marcus drove through the city. Didn’t he understand this wouldn’t work? Was he like some…some predator that gave chase if their prey ran from them?
“If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode,” he said lazily. He steered the car to the curb and took her hand in his. “We can discuss this right now, or we can wait until after lunch and then have at it. Your only choice is when.”
God, why did the determination in his deep voice turn her insides to liquid? She swallowed, wishing she saw a future for them. But look at him. In a suit, as always.
Then again, the way he’d acted at her parents’ house… He’d been rude to them. That wasn’t like him at all. I’m so confused. “Later. Please.”
“All right, Darlin’.” He brushed her lips with a soft kiss, leaving her longing for more. After pulling a cell phone from his suit, he punched a number and a second later said, “We should get there in about thirty minutes.” The cell went back into his pocket.
“Who was that?”
“I thought since I’ve met your family today, you should meet mine. My grandparents will join us.”
What? She looked at her jeans and peasant top in horror, then stared at him. “Marcus, I’m not dressed for a nice restaurant.” Dear God, is he insane?
His lips quirked. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or insult. You didn’t worry about your appearance when you thought it was only me for lunch.”
Her mouth dropped open. She hadn’t, had she? “Ah…”
“You no longer think I’ll judge you by what you wear. We’re making progress, I do believe.” He tugged at the puffy sleeve of her top, the elastic letting him pull it down to expose her shoulder. He kissed the bare skin and murmured, “As it happens, I rather like this top.”
Great, her clothing was not only too casual, but the kind he’d want to play with. She pulled her sleeve up.
He pulled it down.
She was doomed.
He was still smiling ten minutes later when he turned his car into a drive. She frowned at the sign. “We’re going to the Animal Kingdom?” Mr. Suit and Disney?
“Are you allowed to live in Florida if you don’t like Disney?” He chuckled at the amazed look she gave him. At a guard station, he slowed to give his name and was waved on.
Not long afterward, Gabi stared in wonder as they walked through the African-themed lobby of the Kidani Lodge and down a spiral staircase to the Sanaa Restaurant. Hanging baskets mingled with pottery-jar lamps. Colorful cloth hangings and beaded mosaics decorated the walls. Tree branches seemed to dissolve into the thatched ceiling. She stopped to stare. “This is amazing.”
He smiled. “Wait until you see the view from the windows.” After slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, Marcus set his hand low on her back, guiding her toward a table where an older couple sat. His grandparents. In tan slacks and a short-sleeved shirt, the silver-haired man had keen eyes with a sunburst of wrinkles at the corners, a Roman nose, and a stern jaw. He rose as they approached.
“Gabrielle, this is my grandfather, Ben Atherton, and my grandmother, Abby.” His grandmother had tousled white curls, softly wrinkled skin, and an infectious smile.
Marcus kissed Gabi’s fingertips and finished, “And here is my very reluctant girlfriend, Gabi Renard.”
Reluctant. She would kill him…somehow…the minute they were alone. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Gramps,” Marcus said, “her father is William Renard, a lawyer with Thompson and Dunn International. You might have met him.”
Ben’s bushy brows drew together. “I’ve made his acquaintance, although I don’t recall having him in front of my bench.”
Marcus closed his hand around Gabi’s and murmured, “He doesn’t always sound like it, but Gramps was a judge before he retired.”
I complain about lawyers, so I get to eat lunch with a judge? This so isn’t fair.
“Very into rules and regulations. Pretty narrow-minded, I thought.” Ben tilted his head at Gabi and gave a considering look. “If what my grandson says about you is true, I bet you had him fit to be tied, young lady.”
Her mouth dropped for a second before she recovered. “Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“Please sit, everyone,” Abby said.
Marcus seated Gabi and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back, sugar. I want to change.”
And the bastard abandoned her without looking back.
* * *
After a quick change of clothing in the restroom, Marcus strode into the restaurant. When he saw Gramps sitting alone, he froze, then spotted Gabi at one of the giant windows with his grandmother. The two appeared mesmerized by the giraffe striding past. He let out a sigh of relief, realizing he’d been worried the little sub would flee.
When Marcus sat down, his grandfather glanced at the two women a few feet away. “She’s polite, but she doesn’t intimidate worth a damn. I do believe I like her.”
Marcus snorted. “You would. Unfortunately, the problem is getting her to stay. She thinks I’m the same type as her parents, and you’re right about his personality. Her mother is worse.”
Gramps’s mouth flattened into a line. “Renard is a pompous bastard and wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. You’re nothing alike, son.”
“Hopefully I can keep her around long enough to realize it.”
“We ordered for you, by the way. Your young lady has an adventurous spirit, at least in foods.”
The bread sampler had arrived before the two women returned to the table, laughing and chatting easily. Nana could put anyone at ease, and Marcus smiled. He kept realizing how much Gabi was like her.
His sub’s eyes widened when she saw him. What? Oh, the clothes. After she sat down beside him, he leaned over to murmur into her ear, “I spend most of my time in jeans, sugar. Sorry to disappoint you.”
She grinned. “You’re trying to destroy all my illusions, aren’t you?” She lowered her voice, “By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.”
He choked. And hardened instantly. He gave her a “you will pay” stare, and she actually giggled.
When he looked up, Nana beamed at him in obvious approval. Well then. Now to win over his grandfather. If his grandparents approved, so would the rest of the Atherton clan. Marcus leaned back in his chair and smiled at Gabi. He’d bet her previous Christmases had been formal, cold affairs. Dignified. When he took her to his parents’ home in rural Georgia, she was in for a shock.
“I’ve been admiring your hair, Gabi,” Nana said. “As it happens, I’m thinking of putting a few pink or green streaks in mine just to shock the ladies in my bridge club.”
Marcus’s mouth dropped open, and Gramps sputtered like a badly tuned engine.
“I think you’d shock more than just the ladies.” Snickering at the men, Gabi fingered the blue strand in her hair. “You’re braver than I am—I never planned to do something quite so permanent.”
He’d thought she’d done it as a show of defiance—although the blue was rather odd, considering how she liked coordinating colors. “So why did you?”
“My job has unexpected…benefits.” She gave him a rueful look. “I went to see a teenager who’d had a…bad experience, but she refused to talk with me. Wanted me to leave. But then she said she’d planned to dye her hair.” Gabi’s eyes darkened. “It’s a girl thing, trying to change ourselves as if we can change our lives too.”
Marcus took her hand. He’d have to ask someday how she’d changed herself as a teenager.
