Kiss of a Stranger (Lost Coast Harbor #1) (8 page)

“He didn’t seem so bad,” Gabe lied. Jared Hastings acted like an entitled buffoon who complained because his silver spoon was a little bent.

Oliver tipped his glass to him, acknowledging the polite deflection. “What can you do? He’s family.”

Someone across the hall waved to Oliver. He excused himself, leaving Gabe alone with uncomfortable thoughts.

Like the possibility Oliver wasn’t the only Hastings Gabe should be considering.

It stung to think he’d been wrong for so many years. The man was the CEO of the damn company. In charge of everything that went in or out of Lost Coast. He had his perfectly manicured fingers in every part of the Hastings pie.

He also acted like one of the nicest guys Gabe had ever met.

Gabe had despised Oliver too long to believe him innocent, not without compelling proof. But Gabe needed to know what part Hastings Sr. played in the company—and he was standing in the middle of the guy’s house. It wouldn’t hurt to have a look around while he had the chance.

Gabe worked his way around the perimeter of the dance floor. It was filling with people who’d had a drink or two and were feeling a bit loose. Soon, people wouldn’t notice if he crept away from the main ballroom.

He grabbed something from a passing waiter. It was made of salmon and pastry, so small an entire platter would barely fill him up. He sneered at the tiny thing before popping it in his mouth.

Gabe almost closed his eyes in bliss. He’d been raised with great cooking. His mother made sure of that. But it had been a long time since food brought him that kind of pleasure.

Gabe scanned the room, searching for another waiter carrying food. If the other items were like this, he might have to reconsider his opinion of hors d’oeuvres. He spotted a telltale uniform across the room and strolled toward the server as casually as he could. She stood by the French doors that opened onto a large white deck. It wound its way around the house, a handy shortcut to the other rooms. After he grabbed a couple more bites of food, it would be easy to slip outside, and from there he could access the rest of the house.

Ten feet from the waiter, he drew up short, staring.

The office wardrobe had been left behind. She didn’t wear a single shade of brown or gray, no dull neutral clothes just a little too big for her body.

No, that night she wore a dress that could only have been designed with her in mind. The flared skirt came to her knees, highlighting improbably long legs, and the strapless top revealed pale, creamy shoulders he needed to run his lips across. The whole thing was that impossible to define shade somewhere between blue and green. He’d say it matched her eyes, but that would be a lie. Maddie’s eyes held secrets and stories he yearned to know. The dress was just a pretty color.

Forget the food.
Now
he was salivating.

Even here, her hair was up, though this time it was carefully pinned into a complicated updo. Gabe still longed to draw the pins and watch Maddie’s hair flow loose around her shoulders, but he was happy to see it up that night. Declan didn’t get to see her hair down before he did, damn it.

He tried to smile at her, ignoring the fact that he appeared to be losing his fucking mind.

“You look nice,” he lied. She looked fucking incredible.

“Thank you,” she said, far too calm.

His designer suit wasn’t having the same effect on her that the dress was on him. If anything, she seemed more distant then ever, while he couldn’t stop remembering their kiss—and fighting the almost overwhelming urge to grab her in the middle of the party and do it again.

“We haven’t met. I’m Declan.”

Gabe wrenched his attention away from Maddie and glanced at the hand before him. He could find no valid reason not to shake it. He did so, a bit rough, letting the man feel his calluses.

To his annoyance, Declan had a few of his own.

“Were you heading outside?” Maddie asked.

He glanced at the open doors, finding them less appealing than he had a moment ago. “Yeah. I don’t know a lot of people here. I didn’t want to be a wallflower.”

“There are plenty of women you can dance with,” Maddie said. “I doubt you need to be alone.”

Was she seriously trying to pawn him off on another woman? He was almost tempted to take her suggestion and see if that elicited any reaction.

Instead, he offered a small smile. “I didn’t see any other women.”

There. Color filled her cheeks, and he felt an almost primal satisfaction. She was no more immune to him than he was to her.

“Go see the blonde standing by the band. Jared’s all over her. I’m sure she’ll welcome the save.” Maddie sounded almost angry. Because she wanted him to dance with other women—or because she didn’t?

Gabe didn’t even turn his head. “Dance with me.”

He didn’t look at Declan. He didn’t need some other guy’s permission. Gabe held out his hand, ignoring how exposed he felt. How much her answer mattered.

“Go.” Declan downed his champagne and dropped the glass on a passing server’s tray. “I’ll make sure Annabel is okay.”

Maddie gaped as her date walked away, and Gabe felt a small thrill. The catalog model wasn’t so perfect now, was he?

“Dance with me,” he repeated.

Maddie looked at his outstretched hand like it was a weapon, but with a grimace she took it.

It wasn’t the most graceful acquiescence, but when her soft hand fit into his, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, he couldn’t think of any reason he’d ever release her.

The Winter Blues Ball would never have something so common as a DJ or even a cover band. No, each year Peter Hastings arranged for a full band that could transition easily between big band ditties and slow, lounge-inspired numbers.

When Gabe drew her onto the dance floor, one of the latter was just starting up. As the first strains of the new song reached Maddie’s ears, her stomach began to flutter, her skin already eager for the touch of his hand.

She’d hoped a day or two apart would dull his effect on her, turn him into just another guy she could resist as easily as all the rest.

A day? At this point, she wasn’t sure a year would be long enough.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t come at her with the hunger of their kiss. Instead, Gabe rested a hand on her hip, curling it around her waist without the slightest hint of impropriety. His other hand wrapped around hers, his grip gentle.

Hesitantly, Maddie dropped her fingers on his shoulder, though she put no weight into the touch.

“Now that won’t do.” That was her only warning before he swung them around so fast she needed to dig her fingers into his suit jacket to remain standing.

A laugh bubbled up, the same joy she’d felt as a child when she spun in circles. The sound caught her by surprise as much as his movement had.

Gabe smiled at her. It wasn’t the small, close-mouthed one that made her melt. No, this was a big old grin that stretched all the way to his eyes. Just looking at that smile made her feel lighter.

Before she could rebuild her defenses, Gabe drew her closer until her breasts brushed against his chest.

“Much better,” he murmured against her hair.

This was when her instincts should tell her to pull back. To maintain a safe distance. But the instincts that saved her two nights ago were silent tonight.

Perhaps, after a night of tossing and turning, they recognized that resisting Gabe was more trouble than it was worth. Her body hadn’t even noticed when Declan kissed her, but it sprang to attention the moment Gabe rested his hand on her hip.

She wasn’t a fool, and she could only pretend for so long. She wished she didn’t want Gabe, but she did—and want wasn’t a strong enough word. She
craved
him. Even now, as he moved against her, she grew wet. All it took was the heat of his body. His scent. The hot look in those dark eyes.

“Are you staying in Lost Coast?” The words popped out, unplanned.

This wasn’t a song that required a lot of movement. For the most part, people staked out their spot on the dance floor and swayed, but Gabe was steadily dancing them away from the center of the floor to a shadowed corner. She didn’t fight him.

Gabe pulled back enough to look at her. “You worried I’m going to up and leave you?” His voice was teasing. His expression wasn’t.

But she was asking exactly the opposite. She needed to be sure he planned to leave. A fling with a man who made her toes curl was one thing. She could commit to that, as much as one committed to something with a built-in end date.

“Am I staying? No.” There was an edge to his voice she didn’t understand, but she was distracted when his fingers slid up her rib cage. He stopped well before he hit her breasts and worked his hand back down to her waist.

“You’re on your best behavior tonight.”

He raised one wicked eyebrow. “You seemed to like it well enough when I wasn’t. Until you decided to run away, that is.” He leaned forward so his mouth was at her ear, and his fingers dug into her hip. “That’s not happening this time.”

His words and the warm breath against her ear sent shivers coursing through her. Her inner muscles clenched, a keen reminder of how empty she felt. How much she wanted Gabe to fill her.

It was just sex. Sex with a really hot guy. Maybe she’d earned that. It wasn’t like she planned to marry him. She’d more than learned that particular lesson. But it had been so long, and her body had obviously decided enough was enough. It didn’t care if relief came in a criminal package, so long as she got some release.

Bree and Erin were here somewhere, but they hadn’t seen her yet. If she acted quickly, she might escape before they had a chance to offer their opinions.

Even if this was a terrible idea, Gabe just told her he wasn’t staying.

Maddie moved closer to him and swayed with the music.

Gabe drew her fully against him, so close she felt the hard length pressed against her hip. Her breath came in short pants and she rubbed herself against him, just a little, while his hands wrapped around her neck, toying with the short strands of hair that had come loose.

“Have you changed your mind?” His voice held more gravel than usual.

She gave a silent nod.

“Ditch your date.” The words were so low they were practically a growl.

Again, she nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside in fifteen.” Gabe pushed away from her and strode toward the open doors.

Maddie adjusted her dress and took a deep calming breath. Fifteen minutes should be enough time to find the party’s host and, somehow, convince Peter Hastings to hire her.

Chapter Eight

H
e didn’t have much time. For a moment, Gabe considered dropping his plan, but he was certain he’d regret it. It wasn’t like he’d receive daily invitations to the Hastings mansion.

Gabe knew better than to sneak around the party, drawing even more attention to himself. Instead, he walked confidently across the deck. He nodded at a few familiar faces, men from the docks out for a smoke.

The first door he tried was locked. He made a show of mild confusion, then wandered to the next set of French doors. They were also locked, but the third time, he got lucky. He slipped into an empty hallway.

The house was so immense he could barely hear the party. The hum of the band, a hint of voices. That was it.

Though he remained watchful, Gabe was unexpectedly happy. Not just because he was taking action—but because the action had nothing to do with Maddie. If he’d stuck to his original plan, he would be seducing her right now and planning what he could ask during pillow talk.

He was such an idiot. He should have known it was a terrible plan from the first time he saw her. Only a fool would be able to discuss shipping records while lying naked next to Maddie.

And if he wasn’t going to use her, if they were going to come together simply because they wanted each other…maybe there was a tiny chance he wouldn’t ruin everything. At least not right away.

Gabe strolled down the hallway, feeling almost jaunty.

The house had been built with hardwood floors, but imported carpets lined the hallways, their blues and reds a sharp contrast to the sunny yellow walls. Nothing about the house suggested it was the lair of a supervillain who ran guns and set up innocent men to take the fall. It was just the home of some old rich guy with good taste.

Gabe pressed an ear against each door in turn, holding his breath and listening for any sound. Then he eased them open, prepared to offer an excuse about how he’d gotten turned around.

The first two were bedrooms. Suitcases lay open on luggage racks. Guest rooms, then. The family rooms were probably upstairs. The third door led to a powder room. The fourth room was a library, the kind you only saw in movies, with floor-to-ceiling books and a ladder on rails.

The fifth door was locked.

If there was anything to find, odds were it hid behind a locked door. Even with Maddie waiting, he couldn’t walk away now.

Believing the party was at Oliver’s house, Gabe had brought a slim pocket knife, the kind with all sorts of attachments…including a pretty decent lock pick. He’d practiced with it on his own door for several hours and still wasn’t very good. With his record, it was ridiculous how little he knew about being a criminal. In his nervousness, he worked too fast and scratched the door handle. Minutes ticked by, and the entire time Gabe waited for someone to catch him. He wouldn’t be able to make any excuse about being lost, not now. By the time he got it open, he was sweating and his heart raced. He shut the door behind him.

It was Peter Hastings’ office. He’d hit the jackpot.

An enormous wood desk filled the room. It was covered with a blotter, a paperweight, two fountain pens—and a large model of a planned building site. Gabe studied it for a second, but nothing about it was familiar.

Gabe hurried to the other side, aware of every passing minute. The top drawer held nothing but blank notepads and office supplies. The middle was locked, and once again he used the pocket knife. The drawer held Peter Hastings’ passport and checkbook.

The bottom drawer was taller than the others, obviously a file cabinet. Gabe’s hands shook as he worked the knife into the lock. The drawer sprung open, revealing a neat row of manila folders.