Blaze (Blaze #1) (7 page)

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding one bit like
it. “Gabriel Call. Big fan. I loved
Stardirt.
”

“Uh,
Stardust
,” Drake says, squaring
his shoulders.

“That too,” Gabriel says easily. “All your
stuff is good. And it’s nice to see you again, Charles.”

Charles coughs, and he looks like he’s
trying to cover a grin.

“You too, Gabriel,” he says.

The penny finally drops on Noah.

“Wait a minute,” he says, and his eyes bug
out. “Gabriel Call? As in,
the
Gabriel Call? The guy who
writes John Blaze?”

“That’s me,” Gabriel says, and just like
that, the grin is gone from his face. I can’t help but notice how
he completely dominates the table. He’s not being showy, he’s not
being boastful… but anyone watching would know that he’s in charge
here.

I don’t know if I’m turned on or pissed
off.

“Jesus, dude,” Noah says, “you are
killing
it. I mean… shit. You’re the
guy.
You’re
like, John Grisham or something, or Stephen King or J.K.
Rowling.”

“Yeah, well,” Gabriel says, and now he
does
sound like he’s boasting. “I like YA fine as a way to
kill an afternoon, but I think readers are looking for something a
little more… adult right now.”

Noah flushes red, and the table goes quiet.
I’ve had enough.

“Hey, it’s great to see you,” I say
brightly, “but I’m just going over some contract details in this
business meeting
, so maybe we could catch up some other
time?”

He gives me that grin again. He knows
exactly what I’m asking him to do, and there’s no way he’s going to
do it.

“OK,” he says, and before I know it, he’s
turned to Charles.

“What are they offering on an advance
against royalties?” Gabriel asks, and the conversation between the
two of them immediately turns to business. I catch grabs of phrases
– territorial rights, TV options, extended universe deals.

I feel Noah lean in beside me.

“Is Gabriel fucking Call advising me on my
deal?” he whispers, and his breath is hot and close in my ear.
“This is so cool!”

“Yeah,” I say. “Great.”

Gabriel finally turns back to Noah.

“It sounds like a great deal,” he says. “I’d
take it. But hey. It’s your choice.”

Noah looks at Charles, who quietly nods.

“Great!” Noah says, and waves the waiter
over. “Gabriel, you gotta join us for a drink! To celebrate!”

I almost jump out of my skin when I feel
Gabriel’s hand, unseen below the table, trace a serpentine line up
my inner thigh.

“Thanks,” he says. “But I’ve got plans for
tonight already.”

Is this last time I’ll ever see him?

The question echoes around my mind as I
chase a piece of duck l’orange around my plate with a fork. The
sauce is thick and heavy and delicious; the duck meat falls apart
on my tongue with hints of spice and flavor gently whispering over
my taste buds.

It’s exquisite, it’s fantastic, it’s maybe
the most expensive meal I’ve ever eaten in my life… and I haven’t
got any appetite at all.

We’re sitting in Gabriel’s suite. He ordered
in the food especially from La Terre d’Or, the most exclusive
restaurant in San Francisco. The table is covered in a pristine
white tablecloth that’s thicker than any towel I own. I don’t even
want to think about how much the champagne I’m not drinking costs –
I think he’s spent enough on this dinner to pay my rent for about
three months.

And I don’t want to eat a bite.

“How’s the duck?” he asks me, and I force
myself to meet his eyes.

“It’s great,” I say, trying to sound
enthusiastic. A frown pulls at the corners of his lips. He isn’t
fooled. Not for a second.

He sighs.

“Still mad at me, huh?” he asks.

I put my fork down.

Is this the last time I’ll ever see him?

“The very first day of my new job,” I say,
choosing my words carefully. “The
very first day.
And you
show up, interrupt me, and embarrass a client in front of me. I
mean… what the hell? What the hell
was
that?”

He drains the last of his champagne and
refills his glass.

“Justified and well-deserved,” he says. “Not
to mention, fun.”

Anger is welling up in me. Anger and fear at
what it means to fight with a man when all we’ve been doing is
fucking. Fear that I’m about to be far more trouble than he thinks
I’m worth.

“
Fun?”
I almost spit, biting back the
sneer that wants to creep into my voice. “Fun to maybe ruin my best
chance at getting out of my boring job and into something
better?”

That makes him pause. He traces a circle on
the tablecloth, staring into his glass for a moment, and the
constellation of tiny bubbles that race to the surface to pop like
fireworks across the surface of the champagne.

“It would never, ever be fun to embarrass
you,” he says softly. “And I don’t know how to feel knowing you
think that’s what I was doing.”

He looks up at me. I can’t define the look
in his gray eyes.

“Well, that’s what you did,” I say, and this
time my voice is definitely full of bite. I can’t hold it in; the
champagne is starting to give my anger the courage it needs to be
heard.

“Noah Drake,” he says, slowly, “is maybe the
biggest asshole, and biggest pig, in publishing today. If even half
of what I’ve heard about him is true, he deserves a good
ass-kicking, not just a public embarrassment. And even then, even
knowing what he wanted as soon as he saw you, I still helped you
get him. I just didn’t let him get you.”

I stare at him.

Gabriel
, I want to say,
when I
first got to the city, I would have put up with this. I might even
have been flattered. But not anymore. I can stand on my damn
feet.

“So,” I say, “you were worried because you
thought some guy might want to use me for sex?”

He doesn’t bat an eyelid.

“Is that so wrong?” he asks. “Tim found out
where Charles would be having lunch. The agents network. And so I
stopped in.”

I shake my head.

“Who’s going to step in and stop you?” I
ask, before I can stop myself. The room goes still.

That frown pulls at his perfect lips
again.

“Who’s going to step in with you using me
for sex?” I ask again, and there’s no mistaking the challenge in my
voice.

But he meets my stare, and he doesn’t look
away.

“That’s different,” he says. “And you know
it.”

“Do I?” I bat it straight back at him.

He doesn’t answer. He just stands up, tall
and lean, and walks around the table. The candles in the middle of
the table cast flickering light across him. Little sparkles reflect
off his shirt buttons, off his cufflinks, off his watch.

I draw back in my chair as he comes around
and kneels down next to me. I don’t know what to do. There’s a
torrent of emotions pouring through me.

He puts one hand up and cups my face. His
eyes are bottomless. He leans in and touches his lips to my cheek.
A shiver pours down my spine, making me arch my back like a purring
cat.

“That’s different,” he whispers, “because no
one’s ever going to fuck you the way I fuck you.”

I laugh, and it’s bitter.

“For a moment I thought you were going to
say it’s because you cared about me,” I say, pulling back from his
touch.

He stands.

“You know what the arrangement is,” he says,
and his voice is chilly, like ice creeping across a window. “I’m
here, with you, until I leave.”

And with that, he crosses back across to his
seat and helps himself to more champagne.

I push my duck away, the fragrant steam
still wafting up from it. I guess dinner is over for tonight.

“Then what do you care if Noah Drake hits on
me?” I ask. “Maybe I
want
Noah Drake to hit on me. What do
you care if I hit on him?”

I can’t believe the words that are coming
out of my mouth. A week ago – a night ago – I was desperate for
this man sitting across the table from me to take me every way he
could, for him to twist my body to suit his purpose, to take him so
deep inside me that he’d never leave. And now I’m taunting him,
testing him, forcing him to say words I don’t want to hear.

For a moment he tenses, and anger twists his
beautiful features. But just for a second, then it’s gone. He leans
back in his chair and take a long sip of wine. Now he’s in control
again; now he’s the same arrogant, cocky man who didn’t care about
anything except stealing me away from a crowded publishing
function.

“I care,” he says, “because I don’t like to
share. And I’ll keep caring. Right up until I leave this city and
we don’t see each other again.”

I get a taxi home that night, and cry myself
to sleep in my cold, single bed.

The sky, like my mood, is dark and angry.
The forecast calls for heavy afternoon showers and I hope I can get
home before they start. I press my forehead against the cool window
glass. Across the room, Madelyn is finishing a call and then we’re
to go over my meeting with Noah Drake. When I hear her say goodbye
I make my way over to her desk, my heels sinking into the plush
carpet.

“Sorry about that,” she says as I take the
seat across from her. “So, Gabriel Call showed up at your client
meeting.”

It wasn’t a question, but I felt like an
explanation was required. “I didn’t know he was going to be there.
I apologize.”

She tapped her nails on the top of the desk.
They were long, elegant, and painted a deep red. I was sure my face
was a perfect match. How humiliating to explain why my… boyfriend?
Fuck buddy? Whatever the hell he is or was, I had to tell my boss
why he showed up at a business meeting.

“Why are you sorry?” Madelyn asks.

“Because it’s unprofessional. It was my
meeting to handle and he just... took charge.” I shook my head.
Despite having the contract signed, I thought there was a better
than great chance I’d get fired.

“Kate, I spoke to Charles. He said the deal
was pretty much ironed out before Gabriel arrived. He really liked
you. In fact, he said you were highly professional. Even when Noah
wasn’t –
especially
when Noah wasn’t.”

I let out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s
good to hear, but it’s important to me that you know it won’t
happen again. I don’t know why it happened this time. It’s not like
we’re… serious or anything.”

Madelyn laughs and within moments she’s
wiping away tears from the crow’s feet around her eyes.

“Kate, can I give you some completely
unsolicited advice?”

“Sure,” I say, shifting in my seat. I wasn’t
sure about this at all.

“I don’t know what Gabriel Call has said or
done to make you think your relationship isn’t serious, but a man
doesn’t go out of his way to do anything for a woman he’s not
serious about. And if I had to guess, he didn’t like the idea of
Noah Drake having an opportunity to steal your attention or
affection. Now, you don’t want him interfering with your
professional life? Tell him that. With a man like Gabriel, you
might have to tell him more than once. Make sure he understands and
respects it. But don’t think for one second that man is not serious
about you.”

I sit quietly, taking in what she said.
Gabriel could be jealous and possessive. I think back to our first
night together and how he iced me out when I refused to talk about
Matt. I thought this is just how he is with any woman he’s passing
time with. Could it be that he was reacting that way because of me,
specifically? Was he feeling something for me that went beyond
sex?

His words from the other night play in my
head.
And I’ll keep caring. Right up until I leave this city and
we don’t see each other again.

No. He seemed very sure that there’d come a
time when we’d part ways and never see each other again. And he
didn’t look bothered by the thought.

“In fact,” Madelyn says, snapping me out of
my thoughts, “you might be able to convince him to be your next
client.”

“Oh. No. I think you might be completely
overestimating my influence over him.”

Madelyn winks. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I
haven’t been wrong about you yet, Kate.”

“I hate you so hard.”

Nat looks at me enviously and I know she’s
only joking. I’m stretched out on the sofa while she sits on the
floor near my feet. She slaps my right calf and says again, “I hate
you so, so hard.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not taking this
seriously, and I’m being super serious.”

“You’re also super drunk.” Nat stares
suspiciously at my empty wine glass on the coffee table. “When did
you finish that?”

I shrug with both shoulders. “Forever ago.
Pour me another.”

She does as she’s told, then fills her own
glass as well. Nat hands me the rose-colored glass filled with
pale-gold liquid. I sit up just enough to take a sip. She’s back in
her spot for all of three seconds before she’s at it again.

“So, let me get this straight. You got a
promotion and a raise, you landed a more-than-decent client, the
owner of the freakin’ company told you how great a job you’re
doing?”

“Yeah, and—”

“No, no, no. Let’s deal with one problem at
a time.” Nat rolls her eyes and does air quotes when she says the
word problem.

I tip my wine glass in her direction in
surrender.

“Well, did I leave anything out?” she
asks.

“Only the part where I’m starting to suspect
the only reason I was noticed for the job was because everyone
thought I was sleeping with Gabriel—”