The Rebound Pact (11 page)

“One more thing, Holden.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your hands off my sister.”

If Holden felt like he was choking before, he felt strangled now. He nodded, then croaked out, “You don’t have anything to worry about, Max.” He’d have to make damn sure of that.

He hung up and cursed loudly. If
that wasn’t a way to make his dick go limp he didn’t know what was.

Gabrielle pulled up to the manor house at Belle Ami and stared at the lights shining out of the window over the front door.

She was just here to cook dinner.

She’d even gone home and changed from her earlier outfit into something a bit more sensible—skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and ballet flats. Although, she did put on another pair of sexy matching bra and panties. And she’d taken the time to shave. And put on perfume. And lip gloss. Her father and Max knew she and Holden were working on the restaurant menu and wished her well—although Max did it with a glower as he eyed her up and down.

She sighed heavily and
pushed open her door, popped the trunk and took out her cake dish, then pulled out the large cooler bag filled with Pyrex dishes containing the food she’d prepped at home. Holden had given her free range of his business credit card to purchase the supplies. Balancing the items in each hand she faced the house.

Just dinner.
And dessert—of the food variety.

B
efore she could knock the door swung open revealing Holden standing in the entry. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a small triangle of tan flesh. He wore soft, worn looking jeans. The kind a fashion designer spent hours distressing and then sold for a couple hundred bucks a pop. She wanted to press her lips to the spot showing his chest, but instead she smiled. “Hi.”

“Welcome back.”

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved.”

“Good, because I made us an appetizer, two dinners and dessert.”

“Two dinners?
I’m gonna need to work out hard afterward.”

Gabrielle bit her tongue—eager to tell him just how she could help with that.

He took the cooler bag from her and walked toward the kitchen, showing her his tight, perfect ass. She groaned inwardly, clenched her fist so she wouldn’t reach out to touch him with her non-cake bearing hand. He looked fabulous and here she was in jeans and a t-shirt.

When they reached the kitchen
, he set her bag on the counter. She put down the cake and watched him take down two glasses.

“Red okay?”

“Perfect,” she answered, wanting to run her hands along his shoulders. “Normally I’d present menu all in one day, but you did mention that you weren’t a good cook. Thought I’d feed you for a few days.” She didn’t bring up that originally she’d thought to do it for six days.

“What about brunch? Will you serve that to me for three mornings?”

Flashes of heat infused her chest, her face and between her thighs.
Hell yeah
, she wanted to shout, but instead she swallowed and said in a huskier voice than she’d like, “Maybe I will.”

He smiled crookedly and handed her a glass.
“To the Belle Ami Bistro.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” She
clinked her glass to his and took a sip. “Your merlot is definitely heaven in a glass.”

He stared at her mouth and she lick
ed her lips. They inched closer to one another. His scent enveloped her and she drowned in his gaze. She felt flushed, hot, and her nipples poked like two snowballs from her white t-shirt. Holden gazed at her breasts then dragged his eyes back up to meet with hers.

Her lips parted, heart thumped, thighs shook.

But she broke the spell, spinning around to face her dishes. Dinner. This was about dinner. No repeats of the other night.

She’d nearly told her brother the truth when he asked if they were doing more than working together. That could have been a disaster. She still didn’t understand why Max was so possessive over them both
. She frowned, she supposed she’d be the same way about Melanie or Darla. Max tried a few times in college to make a pass at her, but Gabrielle had been sure to nip that in the ass in less than a second flat. The thing was, Max was a player too. Those two boys laid more pipe than…

“I’d best get these warmed up or you’ll really be starving.” She felt lame for breaking the hold of his gaze, for not kissing him when they both obviously wanted to. But she had to gain some control of this situation. They were both totally nuts for doing this. It couldn’t go anywhere
.

If they were going to keep it to just a rebound pact, they couldn’t have sex whene
ver their hormones demanded it. There were bound to be repercussions for their rash behavior. Like Max finding out for one thing, and things possibly getting screwed up with their business relationship.

Gabrielle
walked around to the other side of the island, using the counter as a barrier, and her food as an excuse for putting that barrier there.

“What can I do to help?” Holden asked, rubbing his hands together.
He looked so excited, so happy that she was there. Like a kid at a candy store unable to hide their eager anticipation for the treat they were about to receive.

“Well, the wine was a great start.” She flashed him a smile. “Do you have a baking sheet?”

“Yeah, under here.” He moved around the counter, only a few feet away—no barrier, and she felt the pull of their connection once more.

She forced herself to keep her feet squarely planted on the floor, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to his ass as he bent low and opened a long drawer holding several baking sheets. Did a man’s butt ever get better than that?

She whipped her gaze back to the baguette she was holding as he stood tall and handed her the sheet. Holding that long, thick hunk of bread—a definite phallic symbol—had her face and body heating up. She slammed the bread down on the cutting board and turned to find a serrated knife. Once located, she turned back to the huge bread that had her thinking of Holden’s shaft.
Shake out of it girl, its flour, yeast and water for crying out loud!
She started to slice the bread and arrange the oval pieces onto the cookie sheet.

He stood close to her, close enough that the scent of his
cologne mingled with that of the wine and food. Her mouth watered, her mind wandering to the last time she’d been in the kitchen. She tried to even out her breathing as she spread oil on the bread.

“I can do that, I’m good at spreading,” he said.

Oh. My. God
. She wanted to tell him exactly how good at spreading he was… No. This was just hormones. It wasn’t logical. She needed to be reasonable. Dinner. Dessert. “Yeah, sure. After you do that, you can pop them in the oven. They just need to toast before we top them.”

They worked side by side creating the rest of the meal, their hands brushing
—making her only crave more—as they dipped the tofu in almond milk and then the panko/cornmeal-mixture. It was cozy, and despite her insane need to rip his pants off, she was having a good time. She liked talking to him, being around him.

“Max is coming
back for our opening night.” Holden took a sip of his wine, licking a drop from his lip.

She wanted to lick that drop.

Gabrielle stiffened a little, cleared her throat and turned back to her task. “Yeah, he mentioned he wanted to.” She glanced up at Holden, taking in all of his handsome chiseled features. Since arriving, it was the first time she looked at him that she didn’t try to immediately look away. “So I guess he called before I got here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She wanted to know exactly how that conversation went. She knew how hers had gone… Max seemed irritated that she was going to spend so much time with Holden, but when she’d changed the subject to Len, he’d changed his tune. Said he was glad they would be working together. “It’s great that we’re going to see so much of him this summer.”

“Tell me about it, the man is a workaholic. I did see him when I went to a wine conference in Paris a few months ago though. What about you
, when was the last time you saw Max?”

It had been much longer for her.
Not since their mom’s funeral. She looked down at the pesto sauce she was mixing. “A while.” That was all she could say. Thinking about her mother only reminded her of what she’d lost.

He gripped her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m really sorry for your loss,
Gabrielle. I know how close you were to her.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze and seeing genuine concern in his eyes.
That only made her heart hurt more. Why did he have to be so sweet, draw her in? Thirty days.

“Don’t try to make this,” she moved her hands around indicating
them
, “into something more than it is. We’re lovers for a few more weeks and then our relationship will be strictly business.”

Chapter Eight

T
hat was a blow.

He knew it was true, but did she have to be so blunt about it?

Gabrielle shook her head and pulled her hand away from his, rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry, Holden, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I just…I don’t want to talk about my mom.”

He had to comfort her.
Couldn’t imagine her pain at losing her mother. Holden swallowed hard, then pulled her into his embrace. She resisted a little, but then gave in, resting her head on his chest. He let out a silent breath and closed his eyes for a moment. She felt so good in his arms, like she belonged there, and he was glad to give her the comfort she needed. It was obvious, that even after a year had passed, she was still completely overcome by the loss of her mother.

“She might be gone, but she’ll never be forgotten,” he said. “I know the pain is still there. It will dull over the years.”

She nodded, her head bumping against his.

He
was an only child, and lucky to still have both of his parents, but he’d lost his grandfather about four years ago, and the man had been instrumental in his life. He’d even gone with him on his first trip to France to tour wineries when he decided to buy the vineyard. The pain of loss did fade, but it was still there every time he thought about him. His mom and dad had taken an extended tour of Europe, presumed back in a year, and they’d taken his grandmother along with them.

He rubbed up over her back, placed his chin on her head and breathed in her honeysuckle scent. He kissed her on the temple, then, lifting her face to his, he pressed his lips to hers. He meant for the kiss to be sweet, to comfort
her the only way he knew how. But it quickly turned to more than that. Their tongues slid back and forth in fiery motion, tasting, taking.

Emotion encompassed him, and he tried to thrust it aside. He felt protective of her. When he’d seen the tears glistening in her eyes he’d wanted to do something about it. He didn’t want to see her cry, didn’t want to see her upset.
Wanted to take away her pain.

“
Gabrielle,” he said against her ear.

But whatever she heard in his voice made her stiffen and she pulled away. “We better finish cooking, or we won’t ever eat.”

He let her have that moment of privacy where she turned away from him and discreetly wiped away her tears. Their relationship was so complex. He didn’t even know how to act around her. He was her rebound, he was her older brother’s best friend—her friend, her boss. All those conflicting roles made him feel awkward. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let go, but he knew all those things made taking her into his arms near impossible.

Yet, he’d offered up his body, his bed
, to her for pleasure.

And he couldn’t take that offer away. It meant too damn much to him. And he hated that. As long as he could have her, he would hold her greedily to him.
And cherish every moment too.

“Okay,” she turned back around, miraculously tears gone and a smile curling her lips. “I just noticed you still have th
at on display.” She pointed up at her thong.