Beauty and the Feast (8 page)

“It’s…it’s not that bad,” she stammered.

“The hell it isn’t!” He swung her up in his arms and strode to a nearby bench. He sat her down and knelt in front of her. He studied both knees, his gaze intent, then he reached for her hands and turned them over. Finally, he stood up and assessed the bump on her head. Eva sat through his exam in silence.

“I don’t like the look of that bump,” he said. “Didn’t you have your helmet on?”

“Of course I had my helmet on,” she said, her voice defensive. “I always wear my helmet. The rock was just… The rock that hit me was just in the wrong place.”

The corner of Gabe’s mouth twitched. “What happened? You get run off the road?”

“Yes,” she said. Gabe could hear her indignation in that one little word. “Some jerk, who probably had too much to drink, was coming down the road the wrong way, and when I tried to swerve, he swerved with me and rode me right into the ditch. And then the asshole kept on going! He didn’t even stop to see what happened. I might have been dead for all he cared. My front rim is trashed. Shit.”

Eva stood on shaky legs and started toward her bike. Gabe took her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Home,” Eva replied. “I’m going home.”

“How do you plan to get there?”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “How the fuck do you think? Walk.”

She’s a pistol,
Gabe thought, hiding his grin. “Over my dead body,” he said aloud. “Wait here.”

“Why?”

Gabe rolled his eyes at her. “You ask too many questions. Just sit your little ass down on that bench and wait here for a second.”

Eva stalked to the bench and sat, a scowl on her lovely face.

Gabe returned to the parking lot and checked out Eva’s bike. She’d removed the front tire and she was absolutely correct, the tire was ruined, the rim bent beyond repair. He picked up the bike and the tire and carried it past her, into the winery. He walked up to the woman sitting behind the information desk.

“Miss, a woman was nearly hit by a car on the lane leading to your winery. She has some minor injuries and I’m going to drive her to the hospital to get checked out. Would you mind storing her bicycle behind your desk until I can come back for it?”

The woman looked up at him with some surprise. He could tell that she recognized him. He’d attended plenty of events at the winery. “Is she all right? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No,” answered Gabe. “That won’t be necessary. Would you mind keeping the bike until I can pick it later?”

“Oh, Mr. Abbott, of course. We’d be happy to watch the bike for you.”

“Thank you.”

Gabe leaned the bike and the tire against the wall behind the desk and left the lobby. Eva fidgeted restlessly on the bench where he’d left her.

“Your knees hurt?” he asked, sympathetically.

Eva nodded. “I don’t have a way home,” she said, “And I don’t have any money with me.” Gabe detected a slight quiver in her voice. He’d like to get his hands on the stupid fuck who forced her into a ditch. She could have been killed.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

Eva shook her head. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. I mean, I don’t really know you well enough to impose on you.”

“You cooked me dinner last night. A very intimate dinner.” Gabe winked at her. “I think you know me well enough.”

Eva didn’t answer him, but she blushed in a most becoming way.

“Let me take you home and help get those cuts cleaned up. Do you need to go to the hospital? The bump on your head, I mean?”

“No. I never lost consciousness. I don’t feel sick. I think I just need to put some ice on it.”

“Let’s go.” Gabe reached for her.

“Please don’t…don’t carry me again. I don’t want everyone staring at me.”

“Tough.”

Gabe swung her up in his arms and headed back toward his motorcycle. Eva buried her face against his shoulder. He didn’t care if she was embarrassed. He wanted to feel her warm body against his, and he didn’t want her knees to open up again.

“My helmet,” came her muffled voice.

Gabe set her on her feet next to his bike. He retrieved her helmet.

“Here, let me help you,” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Careful to avoid the bruise on her forehead, he secured the strap beneath her chin. Gabe climbed onto his Harley and lowered the passenger footrests. He started the bike.

“Hop on,” Gabe instructed her.

Eva climbed on the back slowly, trying to keep her bloody knees away from his thighs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Lean on me.” He reached back and carefully brought her arms forward, wrapping them around his waist, tucking her abused hands beneath his jacket. “It’s okay, Eva. Relax. I’ve got you.”

Gabe felt her exhale and press herself against his back. His mouth split into a grin. She felt good. She felt perfect. Blood, bumps, scrapes, dirt, foul mouth and all.

* * * *

Eva directed Gabe to her small home off Seminary. He pulled into her driveway and parked, helping her climb off the back of the bike. Eva was grateful for his assistance. Her knees were beginning to stiffen up and she knew from experience that cleaning them was going to be a bitch. She winced and bit her lower lip as she stuck a stinging hand into her pocket to retrieve her house key. She was a mess. And of course Gabriel Abbott had to be there to witness it. Eva didn’t know if she’d ever been more embarrassed in her entire life. Or ever wanted a man the way she wanted him. He was exactly what she’d pictured. Tall, dark, determined. The way he’d lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing more than a feather… my God, the man made her quiver. She hoped he thought her shakiness was due to the accident. Maybe it was, at least in part. But pressed against him on his motorcycle? Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands tucked beneath his jacket? Her fingertips brushing up against something that felt like…? She’d had to swallow a few moans on the ride home and they weren’t from the pain in her knees or the bump on her head.

Gabe took the key from her trembling hand and unlocked the front door. He held it open for her and ushered her inside. Eva turned to him. She saw that he was looking around her place curiously and she hoped she hadn’t left any dirty laundry on the floor.

“Thank you,” she said, “Thanks for rescuing me and thanks for the ride home.”

“I’m not leaving you yet,” he replied. “You need to get those cuts cleaned up and it’s going to be pretty hard to do it by yourself.” Before Eva could protest, he threw his jacket on the couch and he strode past her. “C’mon. Where’s your bathroom?”

Eva pointed mutely and trailed slowly behind. He was right, damn it. For some perverse reason, she didn’t want him to be right. For another perverse reason, she wanted him to be absolutely right and stay all afternoon, taking care of her. She heard the water running in the bathtub. She approached the bathroom door.

“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not putting me in the tub.”

“Nice thought,” Gabe grinned up at her devilishly, “but you’re going to sit on the edge and I’m going to clean off your knees. Now be a good girl and come here. Sit. I need to get your bike shoes off.” He dropped the lid to the toilet seat.

Eva perched stiffly on the closed toilet seat while Gabe removed her shoes and socks. He tossed them carelessly into the hallway. He rolled up his sleeves and checked the water temperature in the tub. Eva watched through half-closed eyes. The man was an intriguing mix of hard and soft. She didn’t know which portion of the mixture intrigued her the most, but before she had time to make up her mind, she was lifted bodily from the toilet to the edge of the tub. Her legs dangled into the warm water.

“All right, this part’s gonna hurt. I think you’ve ground some gravel into your knees. I’ll go slow.”

Eva sucked in a breath, anticipating the initial sting of warm water against open skin. Gabe knelt beside her. With one strong arm wrapped around her for support, he dipped the other into the water and began to gently wash her knees, first with plain water and then with soap. Eva closed her eyes. She felt him pick out several tiny pieces of granite.

“Hands.”

Eva extended her hands and Gabe provided them with the same gentle treatment.

“Where do you keep your clean towels?”

Eva pointed to a cabinet. She felt herself growing sleepy.

“You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” she heard Gabe ask, concern in his voice.

Eva shook her head. “Just tired, I guess,” she said. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“And the bump on the head didn’t help, did it,” Gabe replied.

Gabe dried her legs and hands gently with a clean towel. She watched him rummage through her medicine cabinet and pull out a tube of antibiotic ointment. He helped her to stand.

“I’m going to get these clothes off you,” he said, “and spread some of this ointment on your knees and your palms and then you’re going to get into bed with an ice pack. You have anything easy you can put on?”

Eva heard herself answer him, “yes.” Why was she so passive? Why was she letting this man take charge? What was wrong with her?

Gabe helped her walk into her bedroom and she pointed at the boxers and old, ratty tee shirt she’d dropped on the bed earlier in the day. Eva automatically lifted her arms as her sweat soaked shirt was removed. She felt a chill as the air hit her bare breasts and she realized he must have pulled off her sports bra. Gabe muttered something under his breath, but Eva couldn’t make it out. She felt him tugging at her bike shorts. She wore nothing beneath them. She really should protest, she told herself, she really should, but she’d grown so drowsy that it didn’t seem to matter all that much what he did. Gabe managed to get her out of the sticky shorts without hurting her knees too much. Suddenly Eva found herself on her back in bed, wearing the old tee shirt and boxers she’d shown him. Gabe sat beside her. He delicately spread the soothing ointment on her knees and hands. He tucked her in, taking care to lift the blanket over her knees, and piled two pillows behind her head, then he disappeared. Eva heard banging sounds coming from her kitchen. Gabe returned shortly with a dishtowel and a plastic bag filled with crushed ice. He wrapped the ice in the towel and climbed into bed beside her. He leaned her against him and pressed the ice bag to her forehead.

“Gabe,” Eva whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Can you take my ponytail out? It hurts.”

“Sure sweetheart, I’ll be happy to.”

The ice bag was set aside for a moment and she felt him tug the elastic out of her hair. He combed her curls with his fingertips for a few moments before he pulled her against him and once more pressed the ice to her head.

“Eva?” His deep voice rumbled against her.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Do you know who the president it?”

“Obama.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Sunday.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“I cooked for you.”

She was silent for a moment, then she spoke his name, her voice husky with fatigue. “Gabe?” It was only the second time she’d spoken his name since he’d found her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What were you doing up at Domaine Chandon?”

“Pit stop. They have nice bathrooms.”

Eva laughed. “Do you still need to go?”

“Eventually. What were you doing there?”

“Visiting the ducks.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a nice day for that.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “It’s a nice day for that.”

Gabe lay beside Eva feeling the regular rise and fall of her chest against his. Her breathing was soft and even. He was a little concerned about the possibility of a concussion, especially since she’d fallen asleep so quickly. He reminded himself that the forehead was the thickest part of the skull, so she was probably all right, just shaken up. Like she said, she apparently hadn’t slept much after his phone call.

This was the first time in Gabe’s entire adult life that he’d removed a woman’s clothes without making love to her, especially a woman he wanted so urgently. If Eva hadn’t been unaware, he couldn’t have faced her, not with the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans, but she’d been pretty out of it and she didn’t utter a single word of protest when he’d pulled her clothes off. The sight of her round, high breasts, tipped with taut, pink nipples, had nearly done him in. Jesus, it was pure torture not to touch her any more than necessary. Her bike shorts were sticky and he’d had to turn her around to get them down. Eva had the sweetest little rounded ass he’d ever seen on a woman. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to rub his swollen cock against her. When he’d pulled up her boxers, he’d inadvertently brushed his fingers against the soft, dark red hair of her pussy. Christ, he’d thought he might explode. Between the sight of her, the touch of her silky skin, and the scent of her—blood, sweat, musk—Gabe didn’t know how he would get through the night, yet there was no way in hell he’d leave her alone. If necessary, he’d spend tomorrow with her too. She was his little chef. He wanted to make sure she’d be okay.