The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal Page 12

  “There isn’t anything to say. It happened five years ago. I’ve moved on.”

  He was motionless under Gabby’s hand and she wondered if he was purposefully trying not to react.

  “Have you been involved with anyone since then?”

  He gave her a look that said it was none of her business.

  “You need to know when to stop, Gabby.”

  She bristled and moved her hand from his arm. “That’s the type of question anyone would ask when they’re getting to know someone.”

  “Why do you want to know me?”

  Should she take a risk? Take a leap? Just how foolish would she look? If she just kept her feelings to herself until she left for Italy, he’d never have to know. But what if something could work out between them?

  “I’m beginning to feel something for you, Rafe. Maybe I need to know if you feel it, too.”

  He took her hand. “I’m mightily attracted to you. But if I get involved with you, I put my reputation on the line.”

  She closed her fingers into his. “Aren’t we already involved? Sometimes I think you believe that we grew up so differently that we can’t truly relate to each other as adults. But I don’t see that. I think we have more in common than we don’t.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking our lives are the same. They’re not.”

  She didn’t want to fight with him. She didn’t want to argue. She wanted him to admit what he felt. “I hop a plane to Los Angeles for a shoot or an interview or a speaking engagement. You hop a plane to Los Angeles to check on the security in a store. After a few days, I hop on a plane to somewhere else. After a few days, you do the same thing. Aren’t you tired of hopping? Don’t you want to live somewhere? I want to wake up each day knowing where I am. I want a life. I want to be a mother.” That had come out and she really hadn’t intended it to.

  “When did you make that decision?”

  “I’m twenty-eight and my biological clock is ticking. I don’t have to make any rash decisions now. I have a few years if I want to get a business going, stop modeling, stay in San Casciano. I think you’d like it, too. It’s about ten miles from Florence. The countryside is full of vineyards and olive groves. In Florence, many of the jewelers are housed on a bridge over the Arno River known as the Ponte Vecchio. It’s really unique.”

  “You’d give up your life in the States altogether? What about your family here?”

  “We’re not as close as families should be and I’d still like to stay in touch. I’d probably have to come back here to talk to boutique owners and manufacturers. I could get an apartment here for when I visit. I’m sure I could sublet it while I’m gone.”

  “You’re really considering a drastic change.”

  “It’s not so drastic. I’ve had a good life modeling. I’ve cut down on assignments over the past year, looking for other opportunities. Some have come my way.” She leaned closer and felt him tense. But he didn’t pull away.

  “You changed the subject,” she said gently. “I don’t want to talk about me, I want to talk about you.”

  “Why do women think talking will solve something?”

  “Because talking can solve lots of things. But only if you communicate your thoughts and your feelings. Don’t you see that?”

  “If you want me to communicate thoughts and feelings about what happened to my wife and my child, that isn’t going to happen. After the shooting, I drank for a month, then I put myself on a physical fitness regimen to pull out of it. I still haven’t figured out what to do with the pain, but maybe someday I will. People say pain makes you a better person, that it can make you more compassionate, more understanding, more empathetic. Mainly, it still makes me angry. No one wants to hear about that.”

  “I do.”

  He pushed away from the table and stood. “You think you do, but you don’t. It will just make you feel bad, too.”

  “Do you channel the anger into anything else?”

  “Sure. Besides work, I lift weights, run. If I’m in one place long enough, I get back into martial arts. That reestablishes my focus.”

  “But you don’t date.”

  “I don’t date.”

  “Then why—” She hesitated. “Then why did you kiss me the first time?”

  “Because you were so beautiful and I hadn’t responded to a woman in five long years.”

  If she’d wanted bluntness, he’d given it to her. “You wanted to see if I was all my reputation said I might be,” she murmured. “The reputation that’s exploited in the tabloids.”

  “That was the only way I knew you, Gabby. Can you blame me?”

  “I can blame you for not wanting to look deeper than that girl on the front cover.”

  “You make an impact. My mind was working slower than my libido.”

  She was disappointed that he’d seen her the way so many other men did. Yet, she was fairly sure that had changed quickly.

  “You want me to talk about my life, yet you haven’t explained about your involvement with Mikolaus Kutras.”

  He was right. She hadn’t. But she wouldn’t go into that unless Rafe really cared. “I stepped into something I shouldn’t have. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. My pain isn’t about losing. It’s about Miko making me feel so stupid. I don’t have anything to confide, but I think you have a world of feelings buried inside that someday is going to let loose.”

  “You’ve read a few self-help books?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I’ve read more than a few. I wanted to know myself better as well as my family and the people I work with. Having feelings is part of life. Sharing them should be, too.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “That’s the end of this conversation. Did I hear you say you’re planning to go out tonight?”

  No one could cut off a discussion he didn’t want to have better than Rafe. She answered his question. “There’s a new club opening. My publicist thinks it would be a good idea to go. What do you think?”

  “I think we could make it happen if we do it right—a limo to drive you there, a second person for backup. Is the owner used to dealing with celebrities?”

  “Yes, or I wouldn’t be going.”

  He thought about it, then nodded. “I don’t see a problem. What time will you be ready?”

  “Nine o’clock okay?”

  “Nine o’clock’s fine.” He stood, towering over Gabby. “Maybe we are getting to know each other, Gabby, but living together like this creates a false intimacy. Don’t let it fool you that it’s the real thing.”

  When Rafe left the kitchen, she wondered which of them was deluding themselves.

  Chapter Nine

  On Monday evening, Gabby sorted the pieces of material, one swatch after another, putting a few aside, the others in a stack. She loved choosing fabric. The sketches Tara had sent from Houston were great. She’d be meeting with her tomorrow.

  Rafe was in his own room working on something on the computer. It looked complicated.

  She hadn’t checked her personal e-mail today, so now she pulled her laptop toward her, opened it and booted it up.

  As she did, her cell phone played its recognizable tune.

  Ignoring the e-mail for the moment, she picked up her phone from the table. The caller number was her aunt’s.

  “Aunt Eleanor! How are you?”

  There was a pause. “In part, that’s why I’m calling. I need to get away and relax, at least for one night. How would you like to join me and Katie at the Yellow Rose Spa on Thursday? We’re going to stay overnight. Are you interested?”

  Gabby hadn’t spent any time with her aunt and she’d like to. Tate’s longtime girlfriend, Katie Whitcomb-Salgar, was also someone Gabby enjoyed spending time with. “I’d like to join you. I’m flying to Houston tomorrow. Blake’s letting me use his jet. When I return, we can coordinate schedules. It might be better for me to meet you there.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll just be thrilled you can come. My
children are avoiding me—”

  Her aunt’s voice broke and Gabby was quick to ask, “Are you all right?”

  “Not really. That’s why I’d like to spend a little time with you and Katie. I’ve told her about what I revealed to you and my family. The two of you have some distance from this mess I’ve made. You have perspective.”

  Her aunt apparently needed a listening ear. She could certainly provide that. “You’ll get it straightened out. I know you will.”

  “Thank you, honey. I’m looking forward to Thursday. Have a good trip to Houston.”

  “I will. Take care.”

  Gabby said goodbye to her aunt and was still thinking about her when she clicked on her e-mail program. When it popped up, she saw she had thirteen messages. Her gaze scanned the list of addresses and she stopped when she came to the ninth one. Miko.

  Taking a deep breath she clicked on it and the message appeared. Like magic, she thought, only there was nothing magical about Mikolaus Kutras. She’d found that out the hard way.

  His letter to her was short and terse, so like the Miko she’d known in latter days.

  Gabby—If you don’t answer this I’ll get to you in another way. Miko

  What was she going to do? Did she have to do anything?

  She didn’t know how long she sat there staring at the message. She was unaware of time. She was unaware of where she was. All she could think of was what Miko had done, and the scene at the club. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

  “A dollar for your thoughts.” Rafe’s deep voice insinuated itself into her reflection.

  She tried to joke when she turned to him. “They’ve really gone up with inflation. But I don’t think they’re worth a dollar.”

  “That’s not true from the look on your face.” He sat down beside her. “What’s up, Gabby? Another message from your…friend?”

  His tone of voice on the word friend annoyed her. “It doesn’t matter, Rafe.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “It really isn’t any of your business.”

  He spun the laptop toward him.

  She childishly slammed down the lid, hoping she didn’t break something.

  He stood now, too, and grabbed her shoulders. They were close enough to kiss, close enough to relive everything that had gone before and add more erotic sensations to it. But she yanked away and went into the living room.

  He called after her. “I don’t want to look at it without your permission.”

  She called back, “Look at it if you want. It’s not going to make any difference one way or another.”

  She hadn’t gotten as far as her bedroom when he was right behind her, grabbing her hand, tugging her to the sofa. “Talk to me, Gabby.”

  Suddenly her cell phone’s ring tone sounded from the kitchen table. “That’s my phone,” she murmured. “I have to get it.”

  “You can let it go to voice mail,” he grumbled. “This is important.”

  She was already on her feet. “The phone call might be, too. At least let me check the caller ID.” Back in the kitchen in seconds, she swiped it from the table, saw the number on the front and opened the phone with a relieved, happy smile. “Dad. How are you?”

  “I’m great, honey. How are you?”

  “Busy. Working. Shopping.”

  He laughed—a rich, deep laugh that she’d always loved hearing when she was a child, and just as much now.

  “Your mother’s making plans for when you come home. I hope you have a clear schedule.”

  “Just one thing on it.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve been looking at houses on the Internet.”

  “You have?”

  “With you retiring soon, wouldn’t it be nice if I had a home base?”

  “I don’t know. How much are you going to be there?”

  “I might be changing some things in my life.”

  “Jet lag getting to you?”

  “You could say that.”

  “It’s more like the photographers are getting to you, right?” he asked, gently rather than teasing.

  “Yes.”

  “You aren’t being impulsive, are you?”

  “I’m not. I’ve been thinking about this for the past six months. A place of my own. Maybe a company of my own that creates something new for the marketplace. Do you understand? I can’t just stop working.”

  “I understand. Work has always been important to me, too. Your mother has wanted me to retire for a few years, but I needed to work, to prove something to myself and to her.”

  “Because she’s wealthy?”

  “That’s part of it. It’s not easy marrying a successful actress.”

  “But Dad, she’d love you whether you worked or not.”

  “I know that. But a man has his pride, you know. You’ve got to remember that whenever you date someone.”

  They both went silent.

  “How are you, really? Your mother worries, you know.”

  She’d never talked with them about the club and what had happened. It wasn’t something she was proud of, or something she wanted to bring up.

  Despite Miko’s e-mails, she thought of the past eight days with Rafe. “I’m good. Really. You tell her not to worry.”

  “Oh, that’ll do it,” he said with a chuckle. “So have you picked out houses you want to look at?”

  “I have. There are three I’m really interested in.”

  “Do you want me to take a preliminary look?”

  She thought about it. “No, I don’t think I do. I really want to take care of things myself, Dad.”

  “Are you thinking about a time when your mother and I might not be around?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. But I understand, Gabriella. You have an independent streak just like your mother. But my offer still holds. I intend to be here when you get home. I’ve found good managers who have to take more responsibility if I’m going to retire, so I can be away more.”

  “You’re actually planning it?”

  “I’ll still have my hand in from here at home. I might have Vincenzo show me how to make wine.”

  Vincenzo was their neighbor. He and her father were old friends. “That sounds like a plan. Only, don’t expect it to turn out to be an award-winning wine with your first bottle.”

  “You know me too well. Give me a call the day before you come home. All right?”

  “That sounds good. I will. Give Mom my love.”

  When Gabby closed the phone, she felt happy and misty and wished she was back in Italy now. But then she looked at Rafe. He was waiting for her on the sofa.

  She slipped her phone into her shorts pocket and joined him there. Maybe it was time she told him the whole story. There was no point keeping it from him. He was going to think about her whatever he wanted to think.

  “Your father?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Do you miss him?”

  “I do.”

  Rafe paused a few moments before he said, “That e-mail sounded threatening.”

  “Miko wants me to call him or write to him. I’m not going to do either.”

  Rafe thought about her decision. But instead of saying if she was right or wrong, he said, “Tell me what led up to the London tabloid photo.”

  “Why do you want to know?” His reasons were important to her.

  He propped his hands on his knees, looked down at the floor and then raised his head. “Most of the time I’ve known you, you’ve been a feisty, independent woman. But whenever you get one of those e-mails, you look lost and lonely. I want to know what causes that.”

  He wasn’t really telling her anything. She hoped he might say he cared about her. But as her bodyguard, maybe he couldn’t say that. “I met Miko when I was on a shoot in Greece. There was a party on his yacht. And I have to admit, he swept me off my feet. He was charming and listened to every word I said. I didn’t realize then that it was just an act—one he uses with every woman he is inte
rested in.”

  Rafe’s jaw set and his mouth tightened. She instinctively knew he wasn’t a womanizer and apparently didn’t think much of men who were.

  “In between my assignments, I stayed at his villa in Greece. He also had a flat in London. When we were in town we attended shows and parties. When I was back in the States, he showed off his house in the Hamptons. It was all so…romantic. I’d never been involved with anyone before.”

  Rafe’s brows arched and his astonishment was obvious.

  “I was waiting for that one perfect man. I wanted a relationship like my mother has with my father. Add to that, I’d been isolated for a long time. Since seventeen I’ve been focused on my career. I basically worked, saw a few friends and family in between, and that was my life. So I didn’t notice at first when Miko started isolating me even more. I mean, I was flattered. He wanted me by his side. He didn’t want the outside world to intrude on our time together. But I also didn’t realize until later, he wasn’t giving me my messages from my family or from my friends.”

  “It’s a pattern,” Rafe said in a low voice. “Did he ever physically hurt you?”

  There was an intensity in Rafe’s eyes she’d never seen there before, as well as a gravelly anger in his voice she didn’t want to inspire to erupt. “No. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically. But whenever I had a break and stayed at his villa in Greece, he left me alone with the housekeeper more and more. Yet he didn’t want me to take on more modeling jobs.”

  Rafe let out a grunt, as if to say that was a pattern, too.

  “When he found out Blake wanted me for this PR campaign in the U.S., he forbade me from doing it. Forbade me!”

  At the tone of her voice, Rafe’s lips turned up a bit at the corners. “I guess that didn’t go over well?”

  “I’d grown up always trying to please my parents so they’d spend more time with me. I thought time equated with love. I tried to please everyone I loved, or who I wanted to love me. But I really wanted to help Blake, to help dig McCord Jewelers out of this mess. We were in London when all of this came down. I was supposed to meet Miko at the club that night. Before he arrived—” Gabby stopped. She really didn’t want to go on with this.