That Mistletoe Moment (22 page)

Rachel yanked on her door handle, but the thing didn't budge. She hit the locks. Nothing. “Bastard child-proofed me,” she muttered. She found the release button on his door as Gabe finished up and circled the car. Opening her door, he handed her the phone. She narrowed her eyes as she read. “What the hell!” She jumped out of the car and waved her phone in his face. “Why did you write this? If anyone reads these, they're going to think I'm a freak.”

“He asked what you were wearing.” Gabe shrugged. “I told him.”

“ ‘A low-cut sweater to show off my beautiful breasts. A tight skirt that begs for your hands to caress my ass. And thigh-high stockings just waiting for your teeth to drag down. Hurry home, stud.' ” She stared up at Gabe, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“I had to guess about the stockings, but a man can dream.” He picked up a lock of her hair that always seemed to escape its bonds, and rubbed it between his fingers. “If I was out of town and you were here waiting for me, that's the kind of text I'd want to read. It's the kind of text your bosses would be expecting to see between two engaged people.”

Maybe. It was getting hard to think with Gabe standing so close. Rachel's breath fogged the chilled air between them, but she itched to rip off her long coat. Her body was hot—because she was ticked off, she told herself—and getting hotter.

“Do you think”—she licked her bottom lip—“that the app takes into account length of relationship and changes its texts accordingly?”

“It would be smart.” His feet nudged the toes of her pumps. When he inhaled, his chest brushed against hers. Even through all her layers, the friction made her shiver.

“What do you think the next text will be?” Her voice was a soft whisper. “I'm not very good at sexting.”

His smile was dark, tempting. Like expensive chocolate. Something she couldn't resist.

Bending his head, he whispered, “You just need something good to sext about. Some memories of a hot night you can remind your fake boyfriend about.” His lips gently brushed across her ear, and then lower. He placed a soft kiss on the patch of skin just below it.

She inhaled on a shaky breath. Trickles of sweat ran down her back, and she felt like she was going to combust. His lips on her throat made it hard to think.

“I'd need . . . um, someone to stand in for Trevor.” She let her head fall back and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights. Her body felt heavy, her limbs too relaxed to even try to take off her coat. If it wasn't for the car at her back, she might have slithered to the floor in a boneless heap.

“I've got the perfect person.” Gabe traced his tongue down her throat to the hollow. The heat from his mouth followed by the cold air hitting her moistened skin sent shivers through her body. “A good friend of Trevor's, in fact. One you're supposed to show around town.” Scraping his teeth along her collarbone, Gabe tightened his hands at her hips. “It would only be fair if he shows you a thing or two in return.”

Rachel could feel her pulse pounding throughout her body. Her clothes were too heavy, too constricting, just too much against her sensitized skin. She wanted them gone. Rubbing her thighs together, she tried to take the edge off, but she still felt achy. Empty.

Never one to wait patiently for what she wanted, she ran her fingers into Gabe's hair and pulled his head back. Practically throwing herself at him, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth.

Teeth bumping, lips gnashing, the kiss started out more exuberant than good. He tasted of tomato sauce and red wine, and she licked into his mouth, sliding her tongue against his. She wasn't thinking about finesse or technique, just about getting as close to this man as possible. If she could have crawled into his skin she would have.

Grabbing her under her butt, he lifted until her body was pressed against his. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist, but her skirt was too damn tight. Rachel whimpered. She needed her coat to come off. There was too much fabric between them. Snaking one hand between their bodies, she tried unfastening the coat, but her mind was too unfocused to thread the buttons through their holes. So she started tugging, hoping to rip the damn thing off. His body felt hard and wonderful, and she wanted to rub against that hardness without four layers separating them.

Stepping to the side, Gabe rested her butt on the hood of his car and pressed forward until she was lying back with his body heavy on hers. He changed the kiss, took control, dialed it back from frantic to commanding. He alternated from slow, deep plunges into her mouth, to tugging on her lip. He tightened his hands in her hair until the pull bordered on pain.

Screw her coat. With Gabe lying on top of her, and she wasn't complaining about that, she couldn't unbutton the top anyway. So she attacked the bottom. She only buttoned the top few buttons usually, and the coat spread apart at her legs when she tugged. Wiggling as best she could, she hooked her fingers under the bottom of her skirt and hiked it up. High enough to free her legs to wrap around Gabe.

Rachel arched into his erection. Still too many clothes between them, but this was better. Much, much better.

Gabe pulled his head back, her lower lip sliding out from between his teeth. His breath came out in harsh pants. His arctic-blue eyes, usually as calm as a frozen pond, burned with lust. He looked aroused, wild, and a little surprised.

He could join the club. When Rachel had woken up this morning, she'd had no idea that by nightfall she'd be wrapping her legs around a man she hadn't yet met. Everything about this was shocking. Her body's reaction to him. Her desperation. She couldn't remember ever feeling like this, and she wasn't quite sure she liked it. It was too out of control.

But like it or not, she wasn't backing down. She needed, and so she took. Rocking against him, she felt the tension build.

“Goddamn.” The air fogged before Gabe's mouth. His eyes glittered, and when she thrust against him, he swore again.

He lifted his torso off of her, making sure to keep his hips firmly in place. Looking down, he traced her body with his gaze.

Rachel tried to visualize what he saw. Her auburn hair was half out of its ponytail by this point, a mess around her head. Her cheeks would be flushed bright pink, her eyes glazed. A virtual stranger, a wanton woman rubbing herself all over him. Rachel couldn't remember if she'd ever been a wanton woman before.

She rocked harder into him, a small moan escaping her lips. It felt good. She liked being this woman.

Gabe placed the tip of his finger on her lips. She sucked it inside, enjoyed the flare of his eyes. Using the wet tip, he traced a path down her throat, pausing at her racing pulse point. He traced the edge of her sweater, each inch of skin he grazed burning beneath his touch.

With much more dexterity than she'd shown, Gabe popped the buttons of her coat and pushed the fabric down to her sides. He cupped her breast with his palm, his gaze flicking up to her face to make sure she was still on board.

She nodded, the ability to form words past her. To drive the point home, she tightened her legs around his waist and pressed closer.

He cursed, and Rachel smiled. Gabe had a filthy mouth in bed. Well, on a car.

And then he pulled down her sweater and bra cup and used that filthy mouth in an extremely filthy way.

Rachel bowed her back, sensation rocketing from her nipple to her core. Her neck arched, and she was looking at the world upside down and through a haze of lust.

Which cleared up right quick when someone stepped out of the elevator and started walking parallel to them.

“Gabe,” she hissed. Her hands found his shoulders and she pushed with all her might.

He moved about an inch.

Smacking his shoulder, she whispered his name again.

He lifted his head, his eyes looking delightfully dazed, his lips slightly reddened. “Huh?”

“Someone's coming.” Rachel looked over. The woman was about thirty feet away now, head down, looking at her smartphone. Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth. It was Margie, one of
Verve's
editors. She was wearing Lycra and sneakers, obviously having come from using the building's gym after work. And getting closer with every second. “Get off me! A coworker's coming.”

Gabe whipped his head around to where she was looking. With a speed that almost gave her whiplash, he dragged her off the hood of his car and took her to the ground. She landed on her purse and something crackled. Gabe covered her body with his own.

Rachel bit back a hysterical giggle. “I don't think this looks any better,” she whispered.

“Shh.”

She clung to him for what felt like hours, but was only mere seconds, before they heard the beep of a car lock. An engine started. She pushed at his shoulder. “Your car is on the drive. It's—”

“It's not blocking her exit, she can still get around.” He frowned when she shifted and a crunch sounded in the air. “Plus, it will block her view of us when she drives past.”

Rolling to her side, she looked over her shoulder. He was right. His car did provide a nice privacy wall.

“Will you stop moving around?” he said. “You're making a lot of noise, and if she has her window rolled down, she might hear you.”

“I can't help it. I'm lying on something.”

Gabe reached for her, then tensed when a car drove toward them. “Wait,” he whispered.

After the car drove past and the engine sound faded, Gabe grinned down at her. “I think we made it undetected.” He rolled to his feet and took her hand, pulling her up.

Brushing her hands over her bottom, she met something sticky. “Undetected but not unscathed.” She turned her back to him and tried to look over her shoulder. “Is it bad?”

“Not if your coat likes spicy meatballs.”

Rachel looked down. Next to her purse was her to-go bag. Smashed and torn, the tinfoil swan that had held her leftovers was ripped open in the middle. She shrugged her coat off—her cream-colored, dry-clean-only, wool coat—and examined the damage.

Gabe's lips twitched suspiciously, and she scowled at him.

“If you hadn't thrown me to the ground—”

“Your coworker would have caught us.” He took off his jacket and slid it over her shoulders. Taking her stained coat, he folded it neatly and placed it on the passenger seat of his car. “Besides, you liked it.”

“Like hell.” She'd loved it. But for some reason, she also liked arguing with him. “What are you doing with my coat? First you ruin it, now you steal it?”

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. Without his jacket, he wore only his white dress shirt, charcoal slacks, and matching vest. He must have been cold, but he didn't show it.

Rachel bit her lip. The three-piece suit really worked for him. She didn't know why more men didn't wear vests.

“Even though I was saving your sweet ass, it is my fault that your coat was ruined. I'll take it to my dry cleaner. See if he can salvage it.”

“Another rescue operation?” Pulling his jacket tight around her, Rachel breathed deep. She was cocooned in his scent. The warmth from his body still lingered in the fabric. As a substitute for his arms, it was pretty damn nice.

He led her to her car, waited for her to unlock it, and pulled the door open. “If that's what you want to believe.”

“What should I believe?” She tilted her head back to look at him.

“Truth?” His brows drew down. “I've just made an opportunity to see you again when I return your coat. Don't take me for a nice guy, Rachel. When I want something, I'll play any move to get it.”

“And you want me?” Rachel couldn't ever remember being so bold. Something about Gabe drew it out of her.

He stared at her lips. “Parts of you, very much.”

Gabe was right. A nice guy wouldn't have said that. But all guys would have thought it.

Sliding her arms into the sleeves of his jacket, she pulled it tight around her, searching for its warmth.

This was what she wanted, wasn't it? A hot and harmless fling. Not a relationship that would distract her from her job. Gabe was perfect fling material, and she'd just walked right into him. She must have been on Santa's nice list, and he was giving her an early Christmas present.

Rocking onto her toes, she kissed his cheek. Loved the rough stubble under her soft lips. “Good night.”

Sliding into her car, she waited for him to back his out from behind hers before turning on her engine.

Gabe had confirmed he was on board with the idea of a fling. It should have been enough to make her sing “hallelujah.”

She watched his headlights follow her to the exit of the garage before losing sight of him in traffic.

So why did she feel so empty?

CHAPTER 5

T
he knock on his office door startled Gabe. Shoving his phone into a desk drawer, he called out, “Come in.”

Ben popped his head in the door. “Hey. You wanted to see me?”

“Come in, have a seat.” Gabe rolled his shoulders. He'd been hunched over his phone texting for too long, but he'd enjoyed reading Rachel's responses. “Since when do you knock?”

Ben flopped into a burgundy armchair. The cushion hissed angrily at the sudden weight. “You're busy a lot and don't like to be interrupted.” He shrugged.

Frowning, Gabe picked up a yellow notepad. He tapped his pen against the paper. How long had these walls been cropping up between him and his oldest friend? When was the last time Ben had talked to him about something other than work?

“Uh, have any plans this weekend?” Gabe asked. “Seeing anyone?”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking? Did you hear something?”

Gabe cocked his head. “Just curious.” Was his friend dating an ex-con? Or did he just not want to share personal information anymore? He cleared his throat. “But that's not why I wanted to see you. I was rereading the old texts to Rachel”—Ben raised his eyebrows—“client 2375F, and they're all very similar. ‘How are you doing today, I miss you,' that kind of thing.”

“I know it's been a while since you've been in a relationship longer than a night,” Ben drawled, “but those are things people who like each other typically say.”

Gabe tapped his notepad harder. “I'm aware of that. But there's no progression. Some of our clients have been members of Build-A-Boyfriend for over six months. Don't you think if you were really seeing someone that long, the texts would change? Become more personal?”

“Maybe.” Ben leaned forward. “What's your point?”

“I was wondering if you could change the algorithm. The longer the client has been with us, the more intimate the texts become.” Raising a hand, Gabe continued. “And before you say it, I'm not suggesting dirty texts.” He bit back a smile, thinking of his last message to Rachel as Trevor. She wasn't like their typical client. She liked a little dirty talk.

“But if a client texts us that she's, I don't know, going to New York for the weekend—”

“We need to text back a relevant question, like ‘How was your trip?'” Excitement laced Ben's voice. “Or, ‘How's your mom, Mary, doing?' ”

Looking at his notes, Gabe twisted his lips. Those weren't quite the sample questions he'd written down. “Sure. But even though we shouldn't start sexting our clients, I do think people in a relationship might ask even more personal questions, like ‘What are you wearing?' Or ‘Thanks for last night.' The sort of thing you said to your last girlfriend.” A small kernel of shame blossomed in his chest when he realized he didn't know who exactly Ben's last girlfriend had been. Janice? Jenny?

He studied his friend. “So, can you do it? Make that program change?”

Staring out into space, Ben blew out a long breath. Gabe knew that look. He waited for the virtual lines of code to run through his partner's head, knowing better than to interrupt his train of thought.

Finally, Ben looked at him. “I think so. I'll start running tests.”

“Great.” Swinging his legs up on his desk, Gabe smiled. “I love this business. I come up with the ideas, and you do all the work.”

“That's bullshit, and you know it.” Ben shook his head. “We've had equal sleepless nights, equal risks—”

“And equal rewards,” Gabe finished. “I like that we've finally gotten to that last part.” They were so close to the ultimate reward. Just a couple more quarters of better-than-expected profits, and he'd be ready to file their prospectus with the SEC.

Leaning forward, Ben rested his elbows on his knees. “It's not just the money. I know in the grand scheme of things our service is insignificant, but we do help some people. A client just e-mailed that because one of her coworkers saw the texts she'd been getting, he finally got up the nerve to ask her out. He knew he couldn't wait any longer without losing his chance, and now they're dating. I like that we helped her.”

Gabe placed an elbow on his desk and rested his head in his hand. “Sounds like we just lost a client. Not a win in my book.”

“Don't you want to help people?” Ben looked at him with his big puppy-dog eyes, and Gabe almost hated to let him down. But his friend was too sentimental. He had to wise up, for his own good.

“Policemen and firefighters help people. Doctors. We just make money off the losers in the world. When are you going to accept that?” Gabe swallowed, the word
loser
leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Rachel had felt so warm and soft in his arms last night. It didn't sit right to call her a loser. But she was the exception. A client who was using their service to get ahead at work. He could respect that.

Ben shot to his feet, the armchair tipping over backward. “Stop calling them losers,” he yelled. “You don't know anything, so just shut up.”

Openmouthed, Gabe watched his partner stomp from the office and slam the door behind him. In their eight years of friendship, that was the first time Gabe had ever heard Ben raise his voice. What the hell had just happened?

He turned to his computer and tried to focus on the spreadsheet he should be analyzing. His mind didn't want to concentrate. He stared at his door instead. Should he find Ben, force him to tell Gabe just what the hell was wrong? His friend was starting to act like a chick, all moody and emotional, and it was pissing Gabe off.

Sliding open his desk drawer, he picked up his phone. If his friend was acting like a hormonal woman, maybe he should ask one for advice. He scrolled to his messages and smiled at the last text Trevor had sent. In it, he'd just said that Trevor had been thinking of her that morning. In the shower. With a washcloth. Rachel's two word response made him laugh.

He switched over to his real phone number.
Have a problem with a friend. He's been acting moody lately. Secretive. Any ideas how to approach him?

Five minutes of drumming his fingers on his desk later, his phone buzzed.
Good morning to you, too, Gabe. I'm doing well, thanks for asking. My coworker didn't see us last night. I know you were worried about that.

Gabe rolled his eyes. He knew he'd gone to the right person about Ben. Both he and Rachel took forever to get to the point.

Spinning his chair, Gabe stared out at the skyline. Things had been changing between Ben and him so gradually, it was hard to pinpoint when it started. But the blowup, or as much as a blowup as Ben was capable of, had been right after Gabe had called their clients losers.

His fingers flew over his phone.
I've been saying the same thing for years, but I guess it's finally getting to him.

Gabe smiled.
Always. Tired of talking about my friend. Let's talk about you.

Gabe could almost hear her exasperated sigh from eight floors down. He settled in his chair more deeply and waited. He enjoyed texting with Rachel more than he liked talking to most women.

It was a minute before the next message came through.

She'd been pretty damn giving last night. If her coworker hadn't shown up, she would have given him everything on the hood of his car. Remembering how sweet she'd tasted made Gabe thirsty for more.

Gabe's phone lit up, and he whistled, low and long. Rachel had a very dirty mouth. It was a good thing Trevor was imaginary, or else he would have been in a world of hurt from everything Rachel threatened to her fake fiancé.

So is that a yes?
he asked.

Gabe frowned, then laughed at himself. He was as impatient as a teenager. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so eager to see a woman. He was sure once he'd gotten inside Rachel, he'd lose his fascination with her. She was just his next conquest, and one that held a hint of the forbidden since she was also a client. It was no wonder he was champing at the bit.

Rubbing a knuckle into his breastbone, he turned back to his desk. There wasn't even the possibility that this thing with Rachel could turn into something. He could never tell her he owned Build-A-Boyfriend. That she was a bet.

The damn bet. He was going to lose. Ben had picked the one woman who used their app for a clever purpose. He wouldn't be able to call Rachel a loser. There went his bonus.

Losing his bonus didn't bother him nearly as much as losing the extra man-hours from his staff. But he knew his employees worked hard, and they'd still be able to make their goals for the IPO.

So why did he feel so shitty? It couldn't be because he knew whatever he and Rachel had going on had an expiration date. That was how he went into all his relationships, and Rachel was no different.

Well, she was different from the other woman he'd dated in some respects. She didn't laugh politely at his jokes all the while doing a web search on their phones for how much his car cost. No, Rachel tried not to laugh around him, tried to stay disapproving, until the giggles just burst out of her.

It was because she didn't know just how much money he had. Seeing a fancy car was one thing. Knowing he was the CEO of the top-grossing company in St. Louis was something else. If she knew just how many zeros were on his bank statement, she'd be exactly like the others, he was sure.

Gabe pounded at his keyboard, printing out the report. He'd take it home and look it over tonight. He couldn't concentrate now, and since Rachel was busy, he wouldn't have anything better to do.

No, Rachel was no different from the others. And even if she was, it wouldn't matter. She'd never forgive him if she found out he'd been playing her this whole time. He'd just have to take what pleasure he could from her while he could and then move on.