Once Upon a Proposal (6 page)

Unfortunately, there was also a small voice inside her head that was screaming at her that it was already too late.

Her fingertips pressed against the hard biceps she could feel through the very fine fabric of his exquisitely cut dinner jack et. She tipped the champagne glass to her lips again, swallowing down the last sip of the sparkling wine before depositing the glass on an elegantly draped high-top table near the doorway. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Gabe's smile grew slowly. He covered her hand on his arm with his and squeezed as he escorted her into the house.

Several sets of eyes immediately turned toward them, but Bobbie didn't have a chance to shy away because his hand tightened even more on hers. “Everybody, this—” he looked down at her in a way that had her heart jumping back into her throat all over again “—is Bobbie. She's—”

“—the one renting Fiona's carriage house,” one of the cookie-cutter wives put in with a tone that had Bobbie's smile stiffening.

“—a close friend of mine,” Gabe continued as if he hadn't been interrupted at all.

“And one of my all-time favorite people.” Fiona's voice was as bright as her yellow gown as she swept into the room, giving Bobbie barely enough time to notice the way Gabe's brothers had glanced at each other after his words.

“Bobbie, dear, you've never looked lovelier.” Fiona brushed her cheek against Bobbie's before straightening and smiling at her and Gabe. “Give me your coat and let me see your gown. We won't let you freeze. There are heaters going outside.”

Bobbie obediently slipped out of her coat and Fiona handed it off to a server she flagged down. “Now,” she said with satisfaction, “You two are surely the most striking couple here.”

Couple?
Bobbie hoped to heaven she didn't look as jarred as she felt hearing the term, particularly hearing it from Gabe's own grandmother.

And the way that Gabe tucked her hand around his arm again didn't help any.

“Grandmother, you're going to hurt our feelings.” The same woman who'd set Bobbie's teeth on edge pouted prettily as she snuggled up next to her husband.

Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “Renée, don't worry. We all know you and Diana both have a closet full of beauty pageant crowns.”

Renée smiled, evidently mollified.

“Has Gabriel introduced you to everyone?” Fiona tucked her arm through Bobbie's other one, making her feel surrounded by support.

“He was working on it.”

“Ah.” Fiona gestured to Renée and her husband, a tall man with a sprinkling of gray in his brown hair. “This is Liam and Renée.” Liam, Bobbie knew was Gabe's oldest brother. “And Paul and Diana.” She gestured to the other couple. “Liam and Paul, of course, are the Gannon part of the Gannon Law
Group, along with their—oh, there he is. Colin.” Fiona waited for the tall, silver-haired man to join them. “My son, Colin. Dear, this is Bobbie Fairchild. I've told you about her.”

“Of course.” Bobbie found herself face to face with Gabe's father and knew she was seeing what the future Gabe would probably look like: silver-haired and incredibly handsome. And his smile was much more natural than either Liam's or Paul's. More like Gabe's, in fact. “I'm glad to finally meet you, Bobbie. I've met your mother, actually. She served on a committee with Astrid several years ago. She's a lovely woman.”

“Thank you.” Bobbie managed a smile. She still felt rather like a specimen on a pin. “It's nice to meet all of you.” She took in the others with her smile.

“And now that the niceties have been observed,” Fiona said brightly, “you all go on and have a dance.” She waved toward the French doors and the tent outside. “I'm going to see if I can get that band to play something from this century.” She headed out.

“I'd better make sure she doesn't cross swords with Astrid again,” Colin murmured with a wry smile that reminded Bobbie even more strongly of his youngest son before he strode out the doors. His daughters-in-law were hard on his heels as they prodded Liam and Paul out into the evening.

Which left Bobbie standing there alone with Gabe and she was suddenly very aware that her breast was pressed closely against the arm she was clutching.

She moistened her lips and carefully loosened her grip, step ping a few inches away. “Your family seems nice.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “They're judgmental and pretentious and my sisters-in-law care more about how many diamonds they're wearing and how long they can stave off their wrinkles than anything else.”

“Gabe!”

His lips tilted. “Don't worry. It's nothing I haven't told them to their faces. And they, in turn, find me as alien as I find them. But we all do care about one thing.”

“Fiona?”

“Exactly.” He turned her toward him, his hands cupping her shoulders. His thumbs brushed over the sleeves of her gown and her breathing went all scrambled again. “I did tell you how incredible you look, right?”

She nodded. “You—” the word came out sounding like a croak and she winced. “You clean up pretty well yourself. I like the bowtie,” she added unwisely. Unwise because what she was thinking wasn't how urbane he looked in his dressy clothing, but how much she wanted to tug that tie apart. To slowly unfasten the mother-of-pearl studs down the front of his white shirt and peel it back—

She blinked and looked out the doors beside them, desperately trying to focus on the reality of the tent, the sparkling lights, the guests…

Anything but her increasingly uncontrolled attraction to him.

“You all right?” His thumbs brushed over her collarbones again. “You're looking flushed.”

She was flushed.

From head to toe and every point in between.

Not even Lawrence had had such an effect on her, and she'd actually planned to marry him!

She swallowed and looked up at him. “You haven't given up on the idea of passing me off as your fiancée at all, have you,” she accused bluntly.

His gaze didn't waver from her face. “I never claimed that I had.”

“You haven't brought it up since the evening at my sister's bistro.”

“If I had, you would have said no again. And I wanted to
give you some time to really consider it. Because once you're in, I need you to stay in until the end.”

“The end being a satisfactory custody ruling.” She didn't wait for a verbal confirmation of what was plain on his face. “I'm not unsympathetic, Gabe. I've seen for myself how much you love your kids.” It had been as much an ingredient during their shared dinner the night before as the pizza and lemonades. “And I really do hope you get what you want. For all of your sakes. But surely I'm not the only woman you can ask.”

“I told you already. I don't date.”

Her hands flopped. “Which I find just as hard to believe now as I did when you said it.” She realized her voice had risen, and, flushing, looked guiltily around them. But they were the only ones in the spacious living room with its collection of comfortably feminine sofas and chairs and priceless artwork, probably because outside, the band had actually begun playing something from a recent decade. More people had joined Gabe's brothers and their wives on the dance floor. Nobody was paying Bobbie and Gabe any attention at all.

She lowered her voice anyway. “Maybe you're not dating anyone right this minute—” goodness knew she wasn't either “—but someone you
used
to—” She went silent when he pressed his finger over her mouth.

“If I tell you that I haven't dated anyone since I came to Seattle, will that convince you?”

“But that was a few years ago,” she exclaimed, even though he hadn't moved his finger at all.

Which only succeeded in making her lips tingle even more.

“I know that was years ago. Look, I'll admit that there were women—” he grimaced a little “—a lot of women, for a while after Steph and I split. But none of them mattered. And since I've come to Seattle, I've had more important things
on my plate.” He moved his hand back to her shoulder. His lips twisted wryly. “If that gets me a sympathy vote, I'm not above using it to my advantage, either.”

Sympathy wasn't what was curling through her.

“I don't want to mess anything up for you.”

His hands tightened. “You won't.”

“That's what my fiancé told me,” she countered, “and he learned how wrong he was, too.”

“You were engaged?”

“
Were
being the operative word.”

“When?”

“Nearly a year ago.”

“What happened?”

She exhaled. Maybe if he knew, he'd understand. “I was engaged to Lawrence McKay.”

His brows pulled together. “He has something to do with the city, doesn't he?”

“He's on the city council, though he has much grander aspirations.” At least he had when they were dating.

She stepped away from Gabe's hands, hoping that her mind would function more clearly if he wasn't touching her. But when she stepped backward, her sharp heel caught in her gown and she heard an ominous rip as she tottered backward.

“Whoa.” He caught her before she could fall flat on her rear.

“See?” She craned her head around, lifting the back of her gleaming gown to see the torn hem. “This is the kind of stuff that always happens!”

“You catch your heel?”

“Or I spill cherry pie down the front of a white blouse at a fund-raising luncheon, or I laugh too loud, or I don't get a joke when everyone else does. Or I tell the largest supporter of my fiancé's congressional aspirations that he's a hypocrite
for publicly criticizing a waterfront project that he's privately investing in!”

“Sounds like he was a hypocrite.”

“Which wasn't the point. Lawrence needed a woman by his side who was a credit to him, not someone who hadn't stuck with one job for more than a year at a time and that he was constantly having to find excuses for, or—”

“He sounds like a drip,” Gabe said flatly.

Bobbie stared. “That's what Fiona calls him.”

“And she's generally right when it comes to summing up people. So what happened after you called the hypocrite a hypocrite?”

She made a face. “Lawrence learned that I wasn't sitting on the trust fund he assumed I'd have.”

“Why would he think you had a trust fund?”

“Because my father was Harrison Hunt's partner when he started HuntCom and I'd already donated a…small amount to his campaign.” If nearly every dime she'd had left in her savings could be considered small. She rubbed the side of her nose, looking away.

Uncle Harry had given her and her sisters each a hundred thousand dollars when they'd graduated from high school. Bobbie, of course, was the only one who had managed to fritter away the money without accomplishing something brilliant first. Like opening her own restaurant or traveling the world or getting a fancy degree.

“He made the same assumption that a lot of people have, who know about my connection with the Hunts. But my father died when I was little and with expenses and, um, stuff, there wasn't as much left over for us as there might have been. HuntCom didn't really take off until after that.”

“And McKay?”

“Broke off the engagement, of course.”

“He's an idiot.”

“In front of five hundred people attending the fund-raising dinner,” she added.

He grimaced. “A drip with no class. Politics is probably the perfect place for him.”

An unexpected laugh bubbled out of her lips. “Don't make me laugh. This is serious.”

“I can't take anyone seriously who is stupid enough to hurt the person he's supposed to love. But it's my luck that you're free of him now.”

She felt unsteady all over again, and it didn't take stepping through the hem of her dress to do it.

All it took was Gabe.

She sternly reminded herself that he wasn't talking about love and forever with
her
.

He was talking about a pretend engagement for the next several weeks for the express purpose of salvaging his right to his own children.

Could she do that?

Help him, while remembering that helping was the
only
thing she was supposed to be doing?

She stared up at him, at his blue eyes, which seemed to hold nothing but sincerity.

“I—”

“Gabriel.” The cool, feminine voice cut across Bobbie's words, making her start. “If you're done flirting with the help, I'd like a moment.”

G
abe barely managed to hold back an oath at the sound of his ex-wife's voice.

Bobbie had been about to agree.

It had been as plain as the straight, slightly short nose on her pretty face.

And now, the gaze that had been locked on his face had turned from that soft, warm gray to a panicky silver.

He gave her a smile that he hoped to hell was calmer than he felt, and slid his arm around her shoulder as he turned to face his ex-wife, who'd entered the living room from within the house. Calling Steph on her rudeness would have been as futile as pointing out the same failure in his sisters-in-law.

They just didn't get it.

“What is it, Stephanie? I'm fresh out of flies for you to pull the wings off of.”

Her lips thinned as she strolled into the room as if she owned it. Her figure-hugging, sparkling gown was as icy blue
as the eyes studying his arm around Bobbie's shoulders. “This is a private matter. Regarding your children.”

He felt Bobbie starting to inch away. “I'll leave you alone—”

“No need.” He held her close, still watching his ex-wife. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Bobbie.”

Stephanie lifted an imperious eyebrow. She didn't even spare Bobbie so much as a glance, and Gabe's jaw tightened until his back teeth felt on edge.

She tossed her white fur wrap carelessly over the arm of a couch. “
This
is the Bobbie person that Toddy mentioned? I thought
he
was a friend of yours.”

“As you can see,
she
is. More than a friend.”

If anything, his ex-wife's thin lips went even thinner. She walked toward the French doors, looking out for a moment before turning on him. “In that case, I don't appreciate you parading your girlfriends in front of my children when you are
supposed
to be taking care of them.”

“We had dinner with Bobbie, Steph. It's not like we got caught romping around in your bed,” he added pointedly.

“Gabe,” Bobbie murmured beside him. “Really, I should go.”

“Yes,” Stephanie agreed immediately. “You should. Gabriel needs to be considering
his
children, not making a fool of himself
over
a child.”

“You're sinking to depths that are low, even for you, Steph.”

“Excuse me.” Bobbie moved out from beneath his arm. Her voice was determined. “I'll leave you both alone to discuss whatever it is you need to discuss.”

She stopped next to Stephanie, who stood at least six inches taller than her, and Gabe nearly laughed when it looked to him as if she still managed to look down her nose at his ex-wife. “It's been…interesting to meet you, Mrs. Walker. But let me just say
that in my experience, Gabe has never done anything where he
didn't
have the best welfare of his children in mind.”

Then she looked back at him, and there were flags of color in her cheeks. “Which is one of the reasons why I think he's going to be a wonderful husband.” She smiled at him before turning on her heel and sweeping past Stephanie through the French doors.

He watched her sail across the terrace. She looked so purposeful that it was hardly even noticeable that she was holding up the side of her dress in her hand to keep the torn hem from dragging behind her.

He didn't know if he was more stunned by Bobbie's in-your-face announcement of their intentions, or in awe.

“Don't tell me you're planning to actually marry that girl.” Stephanie recovered more quickly than he, and her tone was more acidic than ever. “She's not even in
your
class…such as it is.”

Gabe rounded on her. “What is your problem, Steph? I'm used to you flinging everything I do around in the mud, but you usually keep that nastiness reserved just for me. I wonder how your husband would feel knowing you insulted a woman that Harrison Hunt considers almost family?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Bobbie Fairchild.” He knew that Stephanie wouldn't give a fig that Bobbie was very dear to Fiona, because Stephanie didn't care in the least about Fiona. But he knew what Stephanie did care about.

The same thing she'd always cared about.

Her husband and his high-paying career as one of HuntCom's legal eagles.

“She knows Harrison Hunt
very
well,” he finished.

His ex-wife paled and he knew the dart had finally hit home.

She glanced outside, probably spotting Bobbie's distinct
head of curls among the guests as easily as he did. “That…girl…knows Mr. Hunt?”

Gabe smiled coldly. “More than knows him. Family friends. She even calls him Uncle Harry.”

“Ethan doesn't answer to Mr. Hunt. He works for
Grayson
Hunt.” Her chin had lifted, but there was still a wariness in her voice that—if he were a forgiving sort—would have made him feel some regret over having put there.

Only he wasn't the forgiving sort.

“But they're all one big happy family, aren't they? Isn't that one of the things Ethan's talked about? How the Hunts keep the power to themselves? An international company the size of HuntCom…and it's all privately held by Harrison Hunt and his family.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I'll…apologize to her.”

“I thought you might. Nothing can ever get in the way of dear Ethan's career. Where is he, by the way?”

“Still in D.C. and he's worked hard to get where he is.”

That, actually, was something that Gabe didn't dispute. Didn't make him love the guy any, but there was no denying the man's success. Or that he'd been generous with the results when it came to Lisette and Todd. They had the best of everything.

But that, too, made Gabe's fight that much steeper.

“I still don't believe you really intend to marry her.” Evidently, Steph couldn't leave well enough alone. “You don't even believe in marriage. You swore you'd never make that mistake again.”

“You know what they say about the wonders of the right woman.”

Her glare would have done Medusa proud. “So when is the happy day?”

“We wanted to wait until after Fiona's party and tell the kids before announcing it officially.” The lies came so easily
he wondered if he was all that different than his brothers after all. Neither one of them took a truthful track if they could accomplish more with a lie. “We haven't set a date yet. Bobbie's never been married, and I want her to have the wedding of her dreams.”

At that, his ex-wife finally looked away, and the compunction that Gabe hadn't been able to feel earlier crept in anyway. She and Gabe had eloped. And Gabe knew her wedding with Ethan had been even more hurried. He'd been surprised that she hadn't turned up pregnant shortly after, since that was the only reason she'd been willing to forgo a traditional, all-the-trimmings wedding with Gabe. She hadn't wanted her unplanned pregnancy to show while walking down the aisle in a fancy wedding gown.

“How nice for her,” she said stiffly. “If you'll excuse me, I haven't managed to give my birthday wishes to Fiona yet.” She grabbed up her wrap.

He exhaled tiredly. Even before their divorce, they'd traded more jabs than anything else, and after years of sniping, he was heartily sick of the habit. The only good things that had resulted from their union had been Lisette and Todd. It would be nice if they could stop battling over them, too, though he couldn't see that ever happening when Stephanie considered his effort to gain joint custody tantamount to stealing them completely. “What was it about the kids you wanted to discuss?”

She slid the fur around her shoulders. “Todd's school counselor wants to have another meeting with us on Wednesday to discuss moving him to a different math class.”

“You mean
you
want to have another meeting.” They'd been arguing the subject for a month.

“I don't want Toddy feeling like a failure if I let them move him to an easier math class,” Stephanie said.

Gabe shook his head. “He won't. And neither should you.” Which was the real crux of the problem, he was certain.

“As if,” she sniffed. “Just because you always choose the easy way out doesn't mean I want my son learning to do so.”

He almost laughed. The easy way in the Gannon family meant following the same pattern. Which he hadn't done, in spades.

But Stephanie knew that he agreed with the counselor, who not only insisted that both of Todd's parents be included in their sessions, but believed that moving the boy to a class more suited to his skills would help him gain the confidence he needed in order to excel. Unfortunately, what Gabe thought didn't “officially” matter, since Stephanie had the legal right to make such decisions.

Which had left them at an impasse for too long. And Todd was the one suffering for it.

“Let me know what time the meeting is, and I'll be there.”

She didn't look particularly mollified, but then he hadn't expected her to. “And Lisette has a dance recital Thursday evening. She insisted that I remind you, even though I warned her you would be too busy for that, too.”

“I'm not too busy for either Todd or Lisette.”

“Only for your wife,” she countered. “Perhaps having a friendly chat with Bobbie won't be so difficult after all. I should probably warn her what she's getting herself into. Woman to woman, and all.”

“Stay away from Bobbie.”

“I thought I was supposed to apologize to her.”

“I've changed my mind. Your apologies are too similar to poisonous apples.”

Stephanie laughed coolly. “You always did have such a charming way with words.” Assured of having the last say,
she moved out onto the terrace and he heard her voice above the music. “Renée, honey. How long has it been? A year? Two! You look fabulous.”

He let out a breath as her voice faded. God, he was glad that she was gone.

“Hey.” Bobbie appeared in the same doorway that Stephanie had come from to interrupt them. “Is the coast clear?”

He wondered how much she'd overheard, then decided it really didn't matter. Before all was said and done, she would probably hear plenty of verbal sword fighting between him and Stephanie, and be glad to wash her hands of all of them. “It's clear.”

“Good. I've been hiding out in the kitchen for the last ten minutes.” She lifted her hands and he realized she was holding two bottles of beer. “Want one?”

Almost more than his next breath. He took the cold bottle from her. “Where'd you find these?”

“Fiona's fridge.” She grinned, though her expression wasn't entirely easy. “The bar that your mother arranged has everything under the sun from pinot grigio to limoncello and all things in between, but no beer.”

“Not surprising. Astrid considers any beer—” he glanced at the label on the bottle “—even local brews like this, an inferior breed.” He eyed her. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Need you ask? The charming delight that is my former wife.”

“She's hardly the first person to think I am an inferior breed.” She lifted her shoulder and took a sip of her beer. A tiny jeweled flower sparkled amongst her rioting spirals of hair. “Besides. You're not responsible for what she says.”

He rolled the cold beer against his palm, cooling the itch to touch those shining curls. “Unfortunately, that's not necessarily true.”

She looked up at him and for a blinding second, he nearly forgot what he intended to say. But then her smooth eyebrows quirked together a little over her nose, and he dragged himself out of the warmth of her gaze.

“I'm the one who brings out the worst in her,” he finally admitted. “I made her miserable during the few years we were married, and she's never forgotten it. And
you
are anything but inferior. I don't know how I'm going to be able to thank you.”

“You don't have to.” She held his gaze for a moment, then her lashes swept down as she took another sip of her beer.

He cleared his throat and focused on his own beer bottle. It was safer. “I told her that we wanted to wait until after the party was over to announce it, but word's probably going to get around pretty quickly anyway,” he said after a moment. “Discretion has never been one of Stephanie's strong suits.”

She nodded. Another little sparkle in her hair flashed in the light. “Fiona's not going to be fooled. And what about your children? What are you going to tell them?”

“I'm not worried about my grandmother. She's always on my side.” He knew it unequivocally. She was the only one in his family who never wavered in that regard. “As for my kids, I'll tell them only as much as I need to.”

She frowned. “We'll be lying to them, too.”

He'd already realized that. “It can't be helped. It's not as if I can give them the real scoop.” And fortunately he knew his ex-wife wouldn't be in any hurry to tell them, either. She'd figure that announcing an engagement would be his problem.

“I suppose it's also probably too much to hope for that word won't get back to
my
family somehow. The city sometimes feels ridiculously small. You never know who knows who. I'm not going to lie to my mother, though. Or my sisters. They are discreet. So don't worry about that.”

“I'm not worried about your family. But there's something I
need to tell you before it comes back and bites me on the butt. Something that I probably should have told you before.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “That sounds ominous.”

“It's not important to me. But it just goes to prove that you're right. The city is small.” And he hadn't told her yet that she wasn't the only one in this mess who had a connection to Harrison Hunt, though his was a whole lot less important.