"Yes they are. But most men aren't going to tell you the truth if they think they have a chance to score. I know I don't, so I have nothing to lose."
She laughed and took another sip of her wine. Kevin could be just as superficial as the rest of his friends, but he was never that way with her. She didn't know how he was able to meld his different personalities, but he managed it somehow. He was honest and open and a lot of fun and could almost make her forget about the man across the room and why she was there. "So you're only telling me the truth because we're never going to have sex?"
"That's about it."
"If you thought there was a chance, you'd lie?"
"Like a cheap rug."
"And you think all men are like you?"
"Absolutely. If you don't believe me, ask your boyfriend." He dropped his hand from her shoulder.
"Ask me what?"
Gabrielle turned and looked into Joe's watchful eyes. A knot twisted her stomach, and she tried to tell herself it was the Brie. She didn't want to even think it could be anything other than rich food. "Nothing."
"Gabrielle doesn't want to believe guys lie to women to get them into bed."
"I said not all guys," she clarified.
Joe glanced at Kevin, then returned his gaze to Gabrielle. He slid his hand to the small of her back. "This is one of those trick questions,right? Either way I answer, I'm screwed."
A warm tingle swept way up her spine, and she stepped away from his touch. She especially didn't want to think about how easily this one man could affect her with nothing more than a glance or a touch.
"Looks like you're screwed anyway. Maybe you should pay more attention to Gabrielle and less to Nancy," Kevin said, noticing her reaction and misinterpreting it for jealousy. Which it wasn't, of course.
"Gabrielle knows she doesn't have to worry about other women." He took her wine glass and set it on the table. "I have a real fondness for that mole on the inside of her thigh." He raised her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. "You might even say I'm obsessed."
He stared at her over the back of her hand. Her fingers trembled, and she tried to remember if she had a mole and couldn't.
"Did you get enough to eat?" he asked against her knuckles.
"What?" Was he really asking about food? "I'm not hungry."
"Ready to go home then?"
Slowly, she nodded.
"Are you two leaving already?" Kevin asked.
"It's our one-month anniversary," Joe explained as he lowered her hand and kept it tight in his grasp. "I'm sentimental about those kinds of things. Let's say good-bye and get your purse."
"I'll get it for you" Kevin offered.
"Thanks, but we'll get it," Joe insisted.
Saying good-bye to Kevin's friends took about three minutes, and most of that was spent trying to convince Nancy that they really did have to leave so soon. Joe wove his fingers through hers, and they walked from the room, palm pressed to palm. If they'd been a real couple, she might have rested her head against his, and he might have turned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek or whispered something sweet into her ear. But there was nothing soft or sweet about Joe, and they weren't a real couple. They were a lie, and she wondered how anyone looking at them couldn't see behind the facade.
The warm sensation of his touch triggered an even warmer physical desire, but this time her mind and spirit were in control. Just in case, she dropped his hand and kept a few inches of distance between them. She wondered how Kevin was so easily fooled.
Kevin kept his gaze on Gabrielle's back as she and her boyfriend walked from the room. He watched her drop Joe's hand and knew she was upset about something. But whatever it was, Kevin was just as sure her boyfriend could make her forget. Guys like Joe were like that. They could be losers and still get what they wanted handed to them. Not Kevin. He had to take what he wanted.
He glanced around at his young wealthy guests, eating his food, drinking his booze, standing in his beautiful house. He'd crammed his home with wonderful paintings and fine antiques and artifacts. He had one of the best views in the city, and it hadn't come cheap. He'd made it to the top of the hill, but one look at a guy like Joe, and he got that old hunger in his gut for more and that old pounding in his head that told him he would never be enough, never have enough. Enough money, nice clothes, fancy houses, and fast cars. Enough beautiful women to make him feel as if he were different from every other guy walking the planet. As if he weren't invisible. The hunger inside was insatiable, and sometimes he feared there would never be enough.
"Stand right here," Joe ordered once they were out of sight of Kevin and his friends. "If anyone comes, talk loud and don't let them in the room."
"What are you going to do?" Gabrielle asked as she watched him slip inside the first room they'd come to. He quietly shut the door without answering, leaving her alone in the hall.
She stood perfectly still, hoping he'd hurry, trying to hear above the sound of her pounding heart. She felt like a spy, but not a very good one. Her hands shook and her scalp grew too tight. She wasn't cut out to be a Bond girl. Somewhere else in the house a cabinet door slammed shut, and Gabrielle jumped like someone had zapped her with a stun gun. She ran her fingers through her hair and took deep cleansing breaths. She didn't have nerves of steel. She glanced at her wristwatch and waited the longest five minutes of her life.
When Joe appeared again, a deep frown wrinkled his forehead and lowered his brows. Since he didn't look happy and wasn't calling for backup or breaking out the handcuffs, Gabrielle figured he hadn't found anything. She relaxed a little. Now they would leave.
Joe shoved her purse at her, then moved across the hall and quietly slipped into another room. The door had barely shut when she heard his familiar curse.
"Sweet baby Jesus!"
Everything within Gabrielle stilled. He'd found something. She sneaked inside the room and shut the door behind her, half expecting to see Mr. Hillard's Monet hanging on the wall. What she did see was just as shocking. Mirrors. Everywhere. On the walls, the backs of the doors of the walk-in closet, and on the ceiling. A round bed sat in the center of the room and was covered with a black-and-white sheepskin spread that had a big Oriental symbol in the middle. There were no chests of drawers or nightstands to restrict the view through the mirrors. Positioned beside the arched doorway leading to the bathroom stood a small pedestal table with an ivory chess set on top. Even from a distance of half the room's width away, Gabrielle cotdd see that the set was antique, Oriental, and, typical of that period, the nude pieces were not quite anatomically proportional. Gabrielle felt as if she'd stepped into a room at the Playboy mansion. Hugh Hefner's babe lair.
"Look at this place. Makes you wonder what kind of action he sees in here," Joe said just above a whisper.
Gabrielle leaned her head back and looked up. "And how much Windex he goes through."
His gaze met hers through the mirrors on the ceiling. "Yeah, that was my second thought."
She hung her purse on her shoulder and watched him walk silently across the room, the thick white carpet muting the sound of his leather loafers. No matter where she looked, she was surrounded by his image. Caught by his dark intent eyes and the sensual lines of his mouth. The profile of his straight nose and the square, stubborn set of his jaw. The curls at the base of his neck, and his wide shoulders outlined perfectly in his ribbed polo. Her gaze moved down his back to the waist of his gabardine trousers, then he disappeared inside the closet, and she was alone with her own image. She frowned at her reflection and stood a little straighter.