Treasured by Thursday
Page 52
The knit dress had a turtleneck collar and half sleeves. It hugged her curves, stopping a couple of inches above her knee. The garter belt and fishnet stockings were a last-minute decision. Probably a foolish one that wouldn’t be seen by anyone but her.
As she fastened the last clasp and ran her hand over the edges, she admitted, if only to herself, that she hoped Hunter would discover the sexy addition to her outfit. As much as she loved frustrating the man, she could live on the sexual waves penetrating their every conversation. Pushing him, making him forget his own name, was a power she’d never had with a man before.
She liked it.
A lot!
With one last glance in the mirror, she turned off the light and made her way out of the suite.
Hunter turned away from the picture windows as if in slow motion. Instead of a tie, he wore a slim-fitting knit shirt that sat high on his neck. Over that, he wore a jet black jacket. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they had coordinated their outfits. His slacks matched the jacket, his shoes the perfect shade of black to blend. The man really knew how to dress. Casual, confident . . . the billionaire he was.
She took her time walking down the stairs, felt his eyes following her.
Speechless. Gabi liked this side of Hunter much better than the conniving bastard who’d all but forced her signature on their marriage certificate.
“I half expected you to wear red.”
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and let him approach.
“I considered it.”
He offered a ghost of a smile as he rounded the furniture separating them. He picked up a box sitting on a side table and held it out.
“What is this?”
“Open it,” he told her, that ghost smile still lingering.
His fingers brushed hers as she took the obvious jewelry box from his hands.
The hair on her arms prickled and her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid. Sitting on crushed black velvet was a pair of drop ruby earrings. The pear-shaped stones were the size of her little fingernail, a long length of tiny white diamonds set in what looked like white gold made them sparkle in the limited light.
“Oh, my . . . Hunter . . .”
“A splash of power.”
She met his gaze and felt the edges of her heart crack.
“You shouldn’t have,” she told him. And before he could reply, she said, “But I’m happy you did.”
“Wear them for me?”
She grinned. “I think they’ll look better on me than in the box.”
A mirror sat above the foyer table. She removed the simple gold loop earrings she’d put on and replaced them with the gems.
Their weight was a testimony to the carat of the stones. When she attached the second one she gave her head a tiny shake. They found the light and sparkled.
Hunter slid up from behind her and caught her reflection in the mirror. He brushed one of the earrings with the backs of his fingers.
She stood perfectly still and watched the wonder of emotions pass over his face. “You’re beautiful, Gabriella.”
The tilt of her head wasn’t voluntary.
A hint of his frame brushed hers from behind and sparked.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
The request to be set free sat on her lips unspoken. The truth was, she hadn’t felt this alive since . . . since ever. Being set free now would mean an absence of the emotions inside her. Moving from day to day had been her life since she left Florida.
Perhaps it was time to start living again.
She lifted a hand to the side of his face. “Thank you.”
They stood staring at each other through the mirror.
“We should go,” he said without moving. “Before I blow off the Adams account and destroy every self-made pact I made about you.”
“Self-made pact?” she asked with a giggle.
His lips came dangerously close to her neck before pulling away with a growl.
He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the door. “We’re leaving . . . now.”
The upscale restaurant sat in the heart of Dallas and was frequented by celebrities, the rich . . . and the up-and-coming entrepreneurs who wanted to make an impression. Money in Dallas was a lot like it was on the West Coast. The people in this town didn’t care if you just made your millions or if Daddy left them to you. If anything, a self-made man held a hair more clout.
Hunter led Gabi to the bar to await their dinner companions. Heads turned their way as more than one man took notice of his wife. During the drive to the restaurant, he’d kept his distance from her in the back of the limousine. He now made sure some part of their bodies were touching. It was his way of making sure any man watching understood she was with him.
Hunter wasn’t sure where the jealousy stemmed from. He couldn’t claim a time he’d given any thought to another man’s eyes on his date.
It was the ring, he decided. Gabi wore his ring, and somehow that deemed him capable of jealousy, demanded it even. That was the bullshit he fed his head in order to ward off anything deeper.
They found a high-top table and Hunter tucked her into a chair. “What do you want?”
“Dry martini . . . two olives.”
He stepped away and captured the bartender’s attention. While he waited for their drinks, he kept an eye on his wife.
She sat with her back rod-straight. The earrings dangled over her slim neck and glistened with every shake of her head. Her full breasts hugged the inside of her dress, which slimmed to her waist. He let his gaze fall and noticed her tapping her foot to the music. He really didn’t deserve her. He meant the words he’d uttered in the hotel room. The thought of letting her go was a double-edged claymore ready to decapitate him. He should be isolating himself, emotionally, from her.
As she fastened the last clasp and ran her hand over the edges, she admitted, if only to herself, that she hoped Hunter would discover the sexy addition to her outfit. As much as she loved frustrating the man, she could live on the sexual waves penetrating their every conversation. Pushing him, making him forget his own name, was a power she’d never had with a man before.
She liked it.
A lot!
With one last glance in the mirror, she turned off the light and made her way out of the suite.
Hunter turned away from the picture windows as if in slow motion. Instead of a tie, he wore a slim-fitting knit shirt that sat high on his neck. Over that, he wore a jet black jacket. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they had coordinated their outfits. His slacks matched the jacket, his shoes the perfect shade of black to blend. The man really knew how to dress. Casual, confident . . . the billionaire he was.
She took her time walking down the stairs, felt his eyes following her.
Speechless. Gabi liked this side of Hunter much better than the conniving bastard who’d all but forced her signature on their marriage certificate.
“I half expected you to wear red.”
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and let him approach.
“I considered it.”
He offered a ghost of a smile as he rounded the furniture separating them. He picked up a box sitting on a side table and held it out.
“What is this?”
“Open it,” he told her, that ghost smile still lingering.
His fingers brushed hers as she took the obvious jewelry box from his hands.
The hair on her arms prickled and her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid. Sitting on crushed black velvet was a pair of drop ruby earrings. The pear-shaped stones were the size of her little fingernail, a long length of tiny white diamonds set in what looked like white gold made them sparkle in the limited light.
“Oh, my . . . Hunter . . .”
“A splash of power.”
She met his gaze and felt the edges of her heart crack.
“You shouldn’t have,” she told him. And before he could reply, she said, “But I’m happy you did.”
“Wear them for me?”
She grinned. “I think they’ll look better on me than in the box.”
A mirror sat above the foyer table. She removed the simple gold loop earrings she’d put on and replaced them with the gems.
Their weight was a testimony to the carat of the stones. When she attached the second one she gave her head a tiny shake. They found the light and sparkled.
Hunter slid up from behind her and caught her reflection in the mirror. He brushed one of the earrings with the backs of his fingers.
She stood perfectly still and watched the wonder of emotions pass over his face. “You’re beautiful, Gabriella.”
The tilt of her head wasn’t voluntary.
A hint of his frame brushed hers from behind and sparked.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
The request to be set free sat on her lips unspoken. The truth was, she hadn’t felt this alive since . . . since ever. Being set free now would mean an absence of the emotions inside her. Moving from day to day had been her life since she left Florida.
Perhaps it was time to start living again.
She lifted a hand to the side of his face. “Thank you.”
They stood staring at each other through the mirror.
“We should go,” he said without moving. “Before I blow off the Adams account and destroy every self-made pact I made about you.”
“Self-made pact?” she asked with a giggle.
His lips came dangerously close to her neck before pulling away with a growl.
He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the door. “We’re leaving . . . now.”
The upscale restaurant sat in the heart of Dallas and was frequented by celebrities, the rich . . . and the up-and-coming entrepreneurs who wanted to make an impression. Money in Dallas was a lot like it was on the West Coast. The people in this town didn’t care if you just made your millions or if Daddy left them to you. If anything, a self-made man held a hair more clout.
Hunter led Gabi to the bar to await their dinner companions. Heads turned their way as more than one man took notice of his wife. During the drive to the restaurant, he’d kept his distance from her in the back of the limousine. He now made sure some part of their bodies were touching. It was his way of making sure any man watching understood she was with him.
Hunter wasn’t sure where the jealousy stemmed from. He couldn’t claim a time he’d given any thought to another man’s eyes on his date.
It was the ring, he decided. Gabi wore his ring, and somehow that deemed him capable of jealousy, demanded it even. That was the bullshit he fed his head in order to ward off anything deeper.
They found a high-top table and Hunter tucked her into a chair. “What do you want?”
“Dry martini . . . two olives.”
He stepped away and captured the bartender’s attention. While he waited for their drinks, he kept an eye on his wife.
She sat with her back rod-straight. The earrings dangled over her slim neck and glistened with every shake of her head. Her full breasts hugged the inside of her dress, which slimmed to her waist. He let his gaze fall and noticed her tapping her foot to the music. He really didn’t deserve her. He meant the words he’d uttered in the hotel room. The thought of letting her go was a double-edged claymore ready to decapitate him. He should be isolating himself, emotionally, from her.
