Love Is the Drug (21 page)

“Oh, Gabe.” Julie clasped her hands. “I know. I haven’t touched anything of Connie’s since…. It
does
feel like that. That’s why her house in Laurel Canyon’s closed tight as a clamshell. I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet.”

“No need to rush it. It takes time.”

Julie nodded. She cleared her throat and fingered the edge of the notebook. “It must have killed you when you read this the first time—understood what really happened to her.”

Gabe’s chuckle was dry and hollow. He nodded. “Let’s just say, it was a good thing I was on heart medication.”

Julie dropped her gaze to the notebook and bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling. A very painful lump formed in her throat and her eyes misted with tears, but she refused to give in to the weakness. After a long second, she cleared her throat again and looked at Gabe. “What happened after? When you told Jason?” She lifted the diary. “About this?”

His lips pursed and he shook his head. “It was not a good scene.” He turned and looked at her then. “But after the initial shock and holler, my son did exactly what he always does: Instead of standing firm and dealing, he ran. That time, he ran to Austin.”

Julie sat forward. “And tended bar.”

Gabe nodded. “How did you know?”

“We bumped into a guy he used to work with—Steve—when we were in Houston the other day.”

Gabe gave a brief nod. “After three years of awkward phone conversations, I finally decided I’d have to go wrangle my kid up if I was ever going to get him back home again.” Gabe strode back and sat in the chair again. He leaned forward and said, “You see now, don’t you, that Jason’s only reacting. He’s a good guy—he’s going to be a great husband to you, if you’ll only give him a chance.”

Julie shook her head. “It’s not the husband part that worries me—it’s the fact that he’s so determined not to have children.” Julie sat forward then as well. “And Gabe—I want children. I want a family again. Very badly.”

Gabe reached out and took hold of her hand. “He does too—he’s just convinced himself he doesn’t.”

“He’s getting a vasectomy, Gabe.”

“Horseshit! There is not a chance in hell of that happening. Not one chance in hell.” He snorted. “He’s not that committed to his own hype.”

He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “I know my kid. Believe me. At this very moment, he’s probably swilling down a whiskey and grinding his teeth to quiet the argument in his head. The one that’s telling him to turn right back around and come back to you—make babies with you.”

Julie stood up and started to pace with her arms crossed over her chest. “I wish I could believe you.” She stopped and looked at him. “In fact, earlier today, I
would
have—quite easily.” She started to pace again. “But you should have heard him, Gabe. Even if you don’t believe him—I do.” She stopped and turned to face him. “Did he tell you about the condoms? There were holes in them—and he thought I was the one that put them there.”

Gabe resettled himself on his chair, switching crossed legs. “Julie—the thing about the condoms?” He coughed into his fist. “I did it.”

She dropped her arms.
“Wh—What??”
She slapped her hand over her mouth and said, “Jason would be livid.”

One side of Gabe’s mouth pursed and he raised an eyebrow. Then he gave a sheepish shrug and said, “Yes. Livid describes his reaction to a T.”

Julie’s jaw dropped. “You told him?”

Gabe got up and walked over to her. “I had to. I couldn’t let him blame the hotel. For all I knew, he’d try to sue them or something.” He took her hand between both of his. “He didn’t think you’d done it—not when I spoke to him.”

She dropped her gaze. “Well. I guess that’s something.”

“Sure it is. Look: Will you just let me fix what I fouled up?”

Her eyes shot to his face. “What do you mean?” But she was afraid she already knew.

“Get you two back together, of course.”

She took several steps back and shook her head. “No way. Uh-uh. Nope. AND: Not-a-chance.”

* * *

Gabe sighed as he toweled his face dry. He’d pretty much known that he’d end up reverting to subversive means to do this operation, but he’d had to try to get Julie on board first. It would have made the whole thing so much easier—and quicker too, he was sure.

But at least she knew the whole score now. She’d be much more sympathetic and, no doubt, willing to do even more for him if he asked.

And con-hearted man that he was—he intended to take full advantage. Because the ends would definitely justify the means.

* * *

Over the next week, Gabe did two things: Mailed a package to his son—one that was sure to rock Jason’s world to its very center, and got Mike to ask Julie out on a date.

He was rather proud of himself.

* * *

Jason slugged down a second shot of
José Cuervo
at the ground floor Mexican-themed nightclub of his Dubai hotel and then swiveled around on the stool and leaned his elbows back on the bar. He looked at his watch: 2:45 am. Another quarter-hour and the club would close.

“Bonsoir
, Jason.”

Jason dashed a glance to his left and saw the black-haired, lithe-as-a-cobra French Executive V.P. for the hotel chain he was doing business with just placing her what’s-the-point-it’s-so-small purse on the bar next to him. “Evenin’ Giselle. How’s it hangin’?”

He got a kick out of saying stuff like that to the overly refined.

Her black-lined, crystal-blue eyes widened ever-so slightly and one perfectly-arched black eyebrow lifted, but she kept the smile on her face. She melted onto the barstool beside him and pulled out a cigarette from a gold metallic case. “Have you a light?”

“No, sorry. Don’t smoke.”

“A drink then,
s’il te plait
?”

“Sure.” He twisted around and hailed the bartender. “What would you like?”

“Tequila,
bien sûr
. We are, are we not, in Mexico
ce soir
?”

She leaned into him and he caught a whiff of a very delicate floral scent. It reminded him of Julie’s shampoo. He bent his head closer to her ear and breathed it in again before he realized what he was doing and straightened.

“Jason,” Giselle said and lightly twined her long, red nail-polished fingers over his upper arm. “This project will take months. You and I, we are young,
célibataire
—single—we have our needs,
mais oui?
It would be—how do you say?—convenient, do you not agree, for you and I to indulge our
naturelle
urges?”

Jason eyed her for a minute then tossed down the shot of tequila. He set the glass down and said, “Your room or mine?”

* * *

When Mike showed up at the door that evening, Gabe was ready for him. “Okay. Let’s set some ground rules,” he said and indicated that Mike should take a seat on the couch with a point of his finger. “Wanna beer?”

“No thanks. What ground rules?”

Gabe settled in the chair and said, “First: You’ll treat my Julie with the respect that she deserves—no pawing at her.”

Mike puffed up like a blowfish. “I wouldn’t—”

Gabe waved a hand at him. “Fine, fine. Next: No kissing until you get her to her front door—and then
only
, I mean ONLY, if she gives you permission.”

Mike sat forward. “What the hell—are you saying you want me to
ask
her for a kiss? Like I’m in junior high school or something?”

Gabe leveled a hard penetrating look at him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Mike stood up “What a load of horsesh—Hi, Julie.”

“Hi, Mike. What’s a load of horse manure?”

Gabe craned his neck around to look at her. “Oh, we were just talking about the Cowboys’ chances against Tampa next Sunday.” He stood up. “My, don’t you look pretty.” She was wearing something real feminine. A lively pink summer dress with a flouncy skirt that ended a couple of inches above her knees. And strappy silver sandals, to boot.

Julie smiled at him. He was glad to see the blush brighten her features, too. “Thanks, Gabe.”

Gabe turned to Mike and said, “Where are you taking my little gal?”

“There’s a catfish joint I like in the next town.” Mike turned to look at Julie. “If that’s all right with you?”

Julie nodded. “Sounds great.”

As Mike held the door open for Julie, Gabe said, “Don’t forget what I said about the Cowboys.”

Mike gave him a brief nod and followed Julie out the door.

* * *

Jason was having a hard time becoming aroused, so he forced Giselle’s mouth open more by jamming his tongue further inside and ripped at the low neckline of her black dress.

She twisted out of his embrace.
“Mais non, cheri.
This is
Dior
. You must not ruin it.” She turned around. “There is a zipper, do you see it?” she said over her shoulder.

Jason’s hand felt like a lead weight as he dragged at the fastening. He had the thing halfway down before he finally admitted defeat. “Sorry, Giselle, but I’ve changed my mind.”

She turned to face him. There was a decided
moue
of disappointment on her face. “
Trop de
tequila?
Quel dommage. À demain
—tomorrow—then?”

“No, Giselle. I’ve changed my mind about the whole thing.”

Her initial look of surprise turned to pity. “
Ahhh
,
oui,”
she said with a nod, “
Je comprends
—I understand. You only had to tell me,
non?”
With a quick turn, she was settled on the end of her bed. She leaned back on her palms and looked up at him.
“
‘
On ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur
.’
Le Petit Prince—
do you know it?”

Jason was in a hurry to leave. He took a step backward, but nodded. He had to work with this woman, after all. He couldn’t be too abrupt in his departure.

“What is your rose’s name—the lady you love?”

“Julie.”

“Hmm.” Giselle sighed and took the pin out of her hair that had been holding it up. She tossed her head and it fell in a shiny black swath around her shoulders. “
Au revoir
, Jason.”

He didn’t pause. In a flash, he was out the door and down the hall punching both buttons for the elevator.

* * *

Love.
Was he in love with Julie? Jason dropped down on the bed and lay back, tucking his arms behind his head. It was the second time now that someone had assumed he was. Of course, the first time, it had been his dad saying it, so Jason had only thought it a verbalized wish that his dad was harboring.

Except, just now he hadn’t even argued the logic of Giselle’s assumption. And it had been Julie’s name that had popped out of his mouth the minute the Frenchwoman had asked.

Plus—What the holy hell was going on with his sex drive? He hadn’t felt like getting laid since he’d left the States.

Not only that, his one attempt at it had been like a betrayal of Julie. And what was even scarier: the whole time he’d held Giselle, kissed Giselle, he’d wished it had been Julie’s lips, Julie’s body pressed up to his.

Everything—
everything—
had felt wrong.

God, what the hell was he supposed to do about that? He missed her. So bad.

He wondered what she was doing right now. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 4:00 a.m.—so, 7:00 p.m. BP time. She was probably eating her supper. In that cozy little farmhouse kitchen. With his dad and Pookie.

Jason sighed. This time, two weeks ago, he’d be there with her. They probably wouldn’t even make it through the meal before he’d take her to bed.

He gritted his teeth against the pang in his chest. If it weren’t for the kid thing, he’d be with her right now.
Inside
her right now.

Great!
Now
his dick comes to attention.
Traitor.

Maybe he
was
in love.

* * *

After Mike and Julie left, Gabe settled back in his chair, positioned his reading glasses on his nose and picked up his cell phone.

Now to turn the screw a bit with his son.

* * *

Jason reached over to grab the remote. He had to get his mind off Julie. Because love her or not, it didn’t change things. She still wanted kids—and he wasn’t the man to give them to her.

Damn! He had to find something else to occupy his mind. Because he was
not
going to give in to the temptation to fantasize about
her
while he relieved the pressure in his jockeys.

The phone rang just as he was about to turn on the tube. His heart sank, then pounded hard.
Dad.
Was it the hospital again?

“Yes? Hello?”

“Hey ya, fella.”

“Dad.” Jason’s lungs decided to work again. He took in a deep breath of relief.