Wear My Ring

‘Short,’ he said.

‘That’s sweet,’ she said, clearly not as concerned as he was about the thinning of the air. ‘Like the angel.’

Gabe’s knees creaked as he pulled himself to standing. He turned to find Paige standing in the far corner of the lift, one bare foot on top of the other, her hair now up in a makeshift knot, the ends of his sports coat rolled up at her wrists. Despite the stale air all sorts of parts of him stirred for her again. He shot them down. He was conserving air. ‘You having fun over there while I try to get us out of here?’

‘Tonnes. I’m used to being the one swearing under my breath at this thing. It’s nice to watch someone else have a turn.’

‘Nice ain’t the word I’d use.’ Gabe looked around the small space. No way was he something so pansy-assed as claustrophobic. Though time spent in parts of the world with less than exemplary examples of modern vertical architecture had left him with an ever so slight discordance with elevator travel.

‘Now back to your name—’

‘It’s a family name,’ he said, rubbing his fingers across the stiff back of his neck.

‘Mother’s side? Father’s?’

‘Aren’t you hot?’

Paige blinked her big blue bedroom eyes at him and wrapped herself tighter in the cosy warmth of his jacket. Then she slowly shook her head.

‘The air-con’s been turned off,’ he said. ‘When did that happen?’

‘I haven’t been paying attention. But we’ll be fine here for hours. I read a book about a guy in Brussels who was stuck in a lift for like a week. Lived off detritus he dug up from the carpet. Hugh Jackman was going to play him in the movie.’ She seemed to go far away for a second before she snapped back. ‘Compared with him we have it pretty good.’

‘Hugh Jackman, or the guy in Brussels?’ Gabe asked, trying his best not to imagine being stuck in what amounted to a luxury coffin for days. ‘Don’t answer that. In fact no more talk.’

Her cheek lifted as she held back a smile. He hadn’t realised she was a sadist but she was enjoying his discomfort way too much. Proving it, she slid one foot to the wall, cocking a sexy knee in his direction, drawing her tight dress right up her thigh. Then she took a big deep breath before saying, ‘So, Nate seems like a good guy. Great hair. And that dimple? Adorable!’

Gabe clenched his teeth so hard he was sure he heard something crack. ‘Are you kidding me?’

She blinked several times over. ‘I’m sorry, did you want me to stop asking questions about you, or to stop talking altogether?’

He raised one telling eyebrow.

She did the same, and began to swing her knee side to side, drawing his gaze to those legs. Legs that could make a grown man get on his knees and thank God he’d been born. She asked, ‘Is Nate single?’

‘My father’s,’ Gabe ground out.

She cupped a hand to her ear. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My name comes from my father’s side.’ He checked the ceiling, wondering at what point he should kick out a panel, climb onto the roof, and shimmy up the metal cord—

‘He was a Gabriel?’

Gabe shook his head. ‘Frank.’

‘His father, then?’ Paige pressed. ‘No? His father’s best friend’s war buddy’s pet llama?’

And whether it was the fact that she was apparently willing to suffocate them both before giving up, or the way she looked so soft and smudged in her pretty bare feet and his big jacket, Gabe gave up something he’d never even shared with Nate. ‘My father’s mother was a Gabriella.’

It was a small confidence, but the surrendering of it was felt. He was more than surprised when places inside him seemed to shift to accommodate the newfound space.

Paige’s knee stopped mid-swing and her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, probably to stop herself from grinning at his namesake, but he didn’t much care. The sheen her teeth left in their wake brought on a blood rush of attraction with a vengeance. Screw it. If he was going to die here, he might as well die smiling. Eyes locked onto her mouth, he ambled her way.

She asked, ‘This was the grandmother who made sure your Doris Day knowledge was up to snuff?’

‘Amongst other things. Gabriel had come through several generations, and Gran had no brothers, so …’

‘So not a girlie name, then.’

‘Not.’ He lifted his eyes to hers, to find them darkened. As if she knew exactly what she did to his blood. And his nerves. And the tempo of his breaths. So long as she never realised she had the ability to shake things loose inside him as well.

She shook a lock of hair from her face and the knot tumbled free over one shoulder. ‘Well, I think it’s … sweet.’

‘Do you, now?’

‘Sweet as pie. Sweeter than how my name came about.’ She laughed, but there was no humour in it. And when she frowned and looked down at her bare toes curling and uncurling against the floor Gabe stopped in his tracks.

He wasn’t adept at deep and meaningfuls. In fact they had the tendency to bring him out in hives. But stuck in the lift, their personal space overlapping, it simply felt decent to ask. ‘How’s that?’

Several beats pulsed between them before she flicked her hair from her eyes again and said, ‘Dad was a cricketer. International. Away eighty per cent of the year. Mum figured he’d be away when I was born—which he was. So, in an effort to include him in my birth, she gave him the job of naming me. Carte blanche.’

Her voice was even, but he felt the cool in her as she spoke. Saw the chips of ice in her warm blue eyes. They echoed inside him, banging painfully against the raw edges of the new space there.

‘Want to know who I was named after?’ Paige’s shoulders lifted as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, and flicked her hair again.

‘More than life itself.’

She laughed even as she frowned at herself for doing so, the husky sound washing over his skin like waves of warmth. ‘The maid who’d turned down his bed at the hotel when he’d got the phone call.’

God. What a prick. Instinct had Gabe wanting to run his thumb across the vertical lines above her nose. Circumspection had him pressing his feet hard into the floor.

She tucked the wayward lock behind her ear. ‘I think Mum had been hoping to rouse some kind of connection in him. Hoping it would encourage him home more. To us.’

‘Did it work?’

Her smile remained, only now it was bittersweet. ‘Not so much. He cheated any chance he got, and she scrubbed the kitchen till it shone. Until one day she had enough, and asked for a divorce. He had the gall to be shocked. And even while she took him for plenty, he left her broken.’ She shook out her shoulders, and scraped her teeth along her tongue as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in her mouth. ‘Anyway. Bygones.’

Bygones, Gabe thought. Things we pretend don’t matter any more. But sweeping them under the rug only creates a lump to be tripped over time and again. He pushed the thought away.

‘Do you see him much? Your dad?’

‘Never. Mum and I are pretty close, though. She’s a good woman, way more forgiving than I could ever be. Yours?’

He should have seen it coming, but he’d been concentrating so hard on Paige the question came out of left field. And he was caught, looking into her big blue bedroom eyes, all liquid, hurting, wanting, patient.

He could practically feel his heart beating in his neck as the words spilled from his lips. ‘They died when I was young. My gran raised me.’

‘Gran Gabriella,’ she said, nodding, even smiling a little, as if the pieces of him slipped into place.

‘She was an amazing woman. Tough. Stubborn. Thank God too. I was a wild kid. Impatient. First to climb the tree. Fastest to the top of the hill. She had a choice to either let me go feral or guide me with a firm hand. All of my focus I owe to her.’

‘Is she in Melbourne still?’

‘She passed several years back. Right about the time my career took off. It broke my heart that she wasn’t around to see it.’ As he breathed out he felt another shift, this one so significant he could practically feel air swirling inside him in the place where he’d harboured that regret for so long.

Paige’s next breath out was long and slow, as if she too was letting things go. He could have kissed her for leaving it there. Hell, he could have kissed her either way. Her hair falling in wisps about her face. Her lips pink from the nibbling.

‘Paige—’ he said, but that was all that came as he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

He actually shook his head at the realisation that she’d rendered him speechless. The rainmaker. The silver-tongued seducer of innocent creatives.

No matter the mistakes he’d made in his life, he’d done something right for her to have come into his life at the right moment. This woman who’d looked so relieved earlier when he’d reiterated that he’d be leaving soon, that their affair had a use-by date, even he’d been a little taken aback. Until he’d given himself a swift mental slap.

Paige was warm, sexy, astute, and gorgeous as all get out, but there was a limit to what he could offer. It was a good thing that he’d been forced to remember what a destructive illusion feeling for someone could be. He’d remember with even more biting clarity once he was no longer surrounded by air that smelled so thickly of warm, soft, edible, feminine skin.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her upper arms. Her warmth seeped from the fabric of his too-big jacket into his skin. Her delicious scent curled beneath his nose. Her big blue eyes looked unblinking into his as her chest rose high and fell hard.

Yes, he thought. That. The touchy-feely stuff had made him feel unexpectedly raw, but it had nothing on pure and simple sexual hunger.

He placed a hand on the wall above her head, and heat arched through him as her lips parted, soft and moist and practically begging for his kiss.

When she licked her lips, and tilted her head, the wanting that swept through him was thick and consuming. Unrelenting. And limitless, filling all the newly shifted places inside him. He closed his eyes on that thought. Gritted his teeth against the insinuation.

Then at the slide of her hand into the back of his hair, the press of her hips to his groin, the sweet shuddering sigh as her breath whispered across his neck, he thought, Oh, to hell with it—

Then the lights flickered. And the lift began to move.

The lift binged, the doors opened, and Paige knew that if she snapped her eyes left she’d see the silver wallpaper of the eighth floor. But she couldn’t snap her eyes any which way, not for all the coffee in Brazil.

Not with Gabe looking at her that way. As if he was looking not at her, but into the very heart of her. She wondered what he saw. If it was a disappointment, all cold and uninviting. Or if it flickered with any of the heat freefalling through her body. If he had any inkling any warmth glowing inside her had been put there by him. She looked away then, and hoped she hadn’t left it too late.

‘We should probably get out of here before the thing changes it mind,’ she said. ‘You’re way too big for me to carry out of here if your claustrophobia gets the better of you.’

‘Funny woman,’ said Gabe, though it was apparently enough to get him to move, as he grabbed a door and ushered her through. Without all that concentrated heat burning a hole right through her, Paige somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other to scoop up her heels and purse and exit the lift.

The recessed lighting made the hallway overly bright to Paige’s eyes, as if she’d spent a year in a cave, not an hour in a perfectly well-lit lift. As if the confidences she and Gabe had shared had all been a crazy dream. She shucked his jacket from her back and held it out to him on the end of a finger. He took it and tucked it over his crooked elbow.

He angled his head towards the ceiling. ‘I’d better head back up, check everyone’s okay. Make sure Nate hasn’t invited everyone to sleep over.’

‘You’re braver than I am.’

‘You kidding? I’m taking the stairs. You?’

She wrapped her arms about herself, missing Gabe’s jacket, missing his nearness. It was enough to have her take a step back as she shook her head. ‘I think I’ve tempted fate enough tonight.’

His mouth lifted into the beginnings of a smile, though it never quite eventuated. In fact he looked downright serious. Heart beating so loud she was certain he could hear it too, Paige took a breath to say goodnight, but Gabe cut her off, eating up the space between them with three long strides. Barefoot, she had to look up so far to meet his eyes.

‘When will I see you again?’ he asked.

Paige’s breath hitched in her throat. Apart from the party invite, it was the first time either of them had even come close to suggesting making actual plans. ‘Soon enough, if the past few days are anything to go by,’ she said, trying for sassy, but when her voice came out all husky she failed miserably.

‘Good point. But I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.’

‘Dinner?’ Paige asked, her voice rising in her complete surprise. ‘Like a proper date?’

Gabe nodded, serious face well and truly in place.

A date? A date. A date. Experience said no way. Gabe was a nomad. She’d recognised the impatience in his eye the moment she’d first seen him. If she hadn’t learned to keep a man like that at arm’s length from watching her mum watch her dad walk away, time and time again, then she was an out and out fool.

Of course, there was the small fact that Nate was in the process of trying to get Gabe to stay …

‘Paige,’ Gabe said, the tone of his voice making it clear he wanted an answer.

While her subconscious argued back and forth, all she could do was go with her gut. And it turned out that her gut, like the rest of her body, wanted Gabe.

‘Okay. Let’s do it.’

‘Good,’ he said on a hard shot of outward breath. ‘I’ll call to set it up.’

Gabe slid a finger beneath her chin, and kissed her gently. Tenderly. Then his tongue swept into her mouth and she curled her fingers into his sweater and held on for dear life.

Then with a shake of his head, and a growl that told her it took everything he had to leave it at that, he turned and disappeared into the stairwell, a flash of dark clothing, and huge shoulders, and powerful strides. Leaving Paige blinking into the bright empty hallway.

At the start of the night her biggest hope had been that their sizzle didn’t fizzle in public. Now he’d asked her on a date. She’d wished for a guy to end her dating drought. She had nobody to blame but herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

PAIGE had just sat down to cocktails with Mae and Clint at the sparkly pink Oo La La bar on Church Street when she got the call she’d been telling herself she hadn’t been waiting for all day.

She held up a finger to excuse herself, slipped off the stool, and headed out into the icy Melbourne night. She stuck her spare hand under her armpit and banged her feet against the ground in an effort to keep warm as she answered her mobile.

‘Hey, Gabe!’ Paige scrunched up her face. Even in the age of number display, she should have at least feigned nonchalance.

As Gabe’s rich laughter rumbled down the phone she realised she needn’t have worried about the cold; every time she heard that voice a wave of heat followed in its wake.

‘What’s up?’ she asked. As if she didn’t know that either! She bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything else daft.

‘I do believe I promised you dinner,’ he said.

‘Right. So you did.’ There, that was better. Now she might get away with him not guessing she’d spent much of her Saturday daydreaming about where he might take her. Or what she might wear. If Gabe’s sweet tooth was enough to make them last till dessert. Or if his taste for her was stronger still.

A tram thundered noisily down the street, sparks flinting off the overhead cables and disappearing into the inky blackness above. Paige pressed the phone to her right ear, and a finger in the left. ‘I’m sorry, I missed that last part.’

‘I said we’ll have to have a rain check.’

Her feet stopped stamping and she came over all still.

‘I’m in Sydney for work. Flew down first thing this morning. Not sure when I’ll be back.’

He was in Sydney? A thousand miles away and he hadn’t even told her he was going? He hadn’t even had anything like this on the cards as far as she knew. Because she didn’t known much of anything? Unless he’d simply changed his mind. Maybe his claustrophobia was so bad he’d only asked in the aftermath of post survival euphoria!

‘Paige? Can you hear me?’

‘Yeah. I got that,’ she said. She rubbed at a spot under her ribs where she suddenly felt as if someone were poking her with a chopstick. ‘Cool. I understand. I’ve got so much going on at work this week as it is. I guess I’ll catch you when you get—’

‘Paige.’ He cut her off, his deep drawl pouring through her like melted chocolate.

‘Yep?’ She closed her eyes and slapped herself several times on the forehead for good measure. When she opened her eyes it was to see a couple, arms linked, scooting as far around her on the footpath as possible. She sent them a sorry smile but they were jogging too fast to see.

‘I’ll be back in a couple of days, and then I’m sure we can squeeze in a night out if we both try real hard.’

He didn’t say, ‘before I leave for good,’ but it was out there, like a big black piano waiting to fall down on her head. Paige pressed the heel of her palm to her chest as the chopstick beneath her ribs grew thorns.

‘I’ll call when I know more,’ Gabe said.

‘Sure. Fine. Or not. Whatever. Honestly, I’m cool either way.’

Gabe laughed again, the smooth deep sound vibrating down her arm and landing with a warm thud deep in her belly. ‘I’ll call,’ he promised, ‘even if you’re cool either way.’

‘Okay,’ she said on a long drawn out breath.

‘Goodnight, Paige.’ He rang off.

Paige turned towards the bar, but there her boots stopped short. She tapped her phone against her front teeth, her eyes misting over to the soft pink light spilling through the windows of the funky cocktail bar as she forced herself to think.

Good God, had she really floated the idea that Gabe was in Sydney avoiding her? She needed to get a grip. A man she wasn’t attached to had merely postponed a date that till the night before had never even been on the cards. And yet her heart thumped at triple its normal pace. That wasn’t her. She did not obsess about men she couldn’t have. She was not her mother …

No. Time apart was the exact wake-up call she needed. Her life had been plenty satisfying before Gabe Hamilton moseyed into her lift and into her life, and she could do with a few days without him to remind her of that.

She breathed deep, the thin cold air slipping into her bloodstream, and she felt far less wobbly than she had a minute earlier. In fact she felt positively urbane. Then the extreme mixed scents of Richmond’s Asiatic restaurant row hit the back of her throat and hunger followed in its wake. Teeth chattering, she hustled back inside the bar.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Mae asked as Paige plonked herself back on her stool.

Paige opened her mouth to say everything was fine, but Mae’s open palm stopped her in her tracks.

Mae said, ‘Let me tell you a little story while you consider your answer. There I was the other night, enjoying my miniquiche at your gorgeous neighbour’s housewarming, when I spotted you and the hot pirate, looking all cosy. I barely had time to jab Clint in the ribs when you were off, running for the door as if you couldn’t wait to find somewhere private in which to tear one another’s clothes off.’

Paige blinked down into her milky cocktail as the heat rose in her cheeks; a healthy mix of mortification that if Mae had noticed there was a good chance others had too, and regret that Mae knew she’d been keeping her fling with Gabe a secret.

‘So what’s going on with the two of you?’ Mae asked.

‘Nothing,’ Paige insisted. ‘Okay, something. But not what you think.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It all happened so fast.’

‘So fast you couldn’t send me a text? Preferably with image attached.’

Paige frowned at Mae’s pink cocktail, and tried to find an answer her best friend might understand, and couldn’t. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. Maybe because I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I’m still not.’

‘Sounds serious.’

‘Lord, no! It’s a fling. That much I am sure of.’

‘You’ve had flings before, Miss Paige. Before Clint came along the two of us were the queens of the no-strings fling and you never kept it from me before. So what made this one different?’

She risked looking at Mae, and saw the one person in the world who knew her best. Her next breath out felt awash with relief that the truth was out, tempered by a little stab of heartache that she’d found it so hard to tell her.

She leaned forward, and wrapped her fingers around her cold glass. ‘Maybe it’s that from the moment I met him it felt different. Which has been thrilling, but also kind of terrifying. I might be struggling a bit with remembering where my limits lie.’

‘Maybe you’re struggling because, with him, you don’t want limits.’

Paige let herself wonder for about half a second before she remembered the unbearable feeling of the chopstick jabbing her under the ribs. She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. With this one I want them more than ever.’

Mae nibbled at the inside of her cheek a few moments as if she was grappling with some inner turmoil, before leaning over and wrapping cool hands around Paige’s. ‘I know you like putting your life into neat separate little boxes, Paige—work, home, friends, lovers—and I get why. Having them in boxes makes them feel like they’re under your control. I used to be the same way. And then I met Clint.’

Paige got her usual tummy ache at the mere mention of Clint’s name, only this time the jab of the chopstick under the ribs joined it. Which made no sense at all.

Oblivious, Mae went on. ‘I thought he was goofy and shy and way too sweet for the likes of me. I could have put him in that easy-to-ignore box on day dot and that would have been that. But I took a chance instead. I let him see me, and let myself see him. And look at us now.’

Paige wriggled on her stool, not liking talking about Clint any more than she had about Gabe. Because she hoped so hard that Mae could rise above the statistics, and genetics, and history and be happy for ever after? All of a sudden that theory didn’t hold water.

She gave herself a mental shake. One thing at a time. This current dilemma was about her. And Gabe. Even the mere thought of him had her breathing out long and slow.

Paige waved her hands in front of her face. ‘I know in your loved-up state you’re seeing cupid’s arrows flying all over the place, but it’s not like that. I assure you. It’s sex. Pure and simple. Well, to be honest it’s not so pure or so simple.’

Finally Mae stopped looking at her as if she was trying to see right into her soul. Her voice a low growl, Mae said, ‘Now, you’re talkin’. Details. You owe me.’

Paige figured she did, and then some. And gossiping like this felt so good, like the old days. ‘So what do you want to know?’

‘Do you have actual conversations in between bouts of athletic lust?’

‘Sometimes. Sometimes we don’t want to waste our breath.’

‘Phew.’ Mae rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her upturned palm. ‘Do you catch yourself daydreaming about him? About his belly button, the whirl of hair behind his right ear, the way his eyes go all dark and dreamy when he sees you?’

Paige raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly you do.’

‘Ha! So are you seeing anyone else?’

‘No,’ Paige answered before she’d even noticed Mae’s change of tack, or the knowing gleam in her eye. Dammit.