She was quiet for a while, as if digesting what he’d said. “Would you have been able to accept it if that man had died?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe after some time had passed, yes, I would have learned to accept. In India, they also believe in being the witness. You teach yourself to get past emotions so you can move into action.”
“Isn’t that being in control?”
Gavin briefly admired the sharp intelligence of the woman lying beneath him. “Good point. In a way, I suppose you’re right. But there’s a difference between denying your emotions to be in control, and accepting them to accomplish an action. I was scared, but I didn’t fight my feelings. I let the fear move through me and then cleared my head so I could decide what to do.”
She shifted her buttocks and he stirred back to life. Ready for round two, he leaned over and tilted her chin up. The expression on her face froze him in the act. His chest squeezed in sheer terror at the mix of determination and sadness.
“I made my own decision, Gavin.”
“What is it, baby?”
“I don’t want to fight this attraction we have anymore. Maybe I can even fall in love with you again. But I’m not going to do anything about it this time.”
He stroked her cheek. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m tired of being afraid of the future. Wondering what’s going to happen when your time is up. Wondering if I can watch you leave again without breaking apart.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. I have a plan.”
“No.” Her lips pursed. “This time it’s my decision. My rules, Gavin. We’re going to sleep together.”
“Thank God.”
“Thought you’d like that part. I won’t fight you. We’ll spend time together. But when our time is up, you go back to your job and we part without any hard feelings. Close up the past, clear our karma, and go on with our lives.”
Neat and tidy. He fucking hated it. “Miranda, please listen to me. We don’t have to leave each other this time. You can come with me.”
He expected a gasp of pleasure. A joyous smile. Not the outright laugh that mocked him as a crazy lunatic. “Come with you? While you travel around the country and close deals? No, thanks. I have a life here, a life I built, and I’m not giving it up.”
He jerked back. God, why was he so surprised? Did he really think one sexual encounter wiped out years of heartache?
His silence must have been his answer. A sad smile touched her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, Gavin. But I’m not coming with you. If you want to continue this, it has to be on my terms. Or this is over tonight.”
He slumped back on the bed and laid his hand over his forehead. How had everything gotten so screwed up? Did he even have a choice? He wasn’t about to let her go. If he accepted her terms, she intended to say a sweet good-bye and find another man to marry and have kids with. The idea heated his blood with venom.
Unless…
Unless he did everything in his power to change her mind. He had time left. Maybe more if he pushed Brian. Convince her she couldn’t live without him and they were meant to be together. Show her how good they were together, both in and out of bed.
Starting now.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
In seconds, he flipped her over so she straddled him. Her nipples had already hardened. He flicked the tips and rang out a moan. “You win. You get my body and anything else you want for the next few weeks.” His fingers slipped into liquid heat and he moved them in the way she liked. Her channel tightened and she arched. “But you have to please me.”
“Bastard.”
“That’s gonna cost you.”
He teased her clit until she pressed against him and began to beg. Her breathy cries sang in his ears. Gavin prayed he’d have enough time to convince her they deserved a future.
Her orgasm hit and he stopped thinking.
Chapter Seven
Miranda pushed open the door to the popular French restaurant and dragged Gavin in. The sophisticated atmosphere bespoke the usual bistro flavor—sparkling lights, small round tables, rich mahogany wood, and a reserved air of snobbery. She’d learned from experience that the more obnoxious her appearance, the less people looked beneath the surface to spot her food critic celebrity. LaSaveur was the new dig in town, known for its gourmet food and exquisite use of truffle oil. Unfortunately, the owner sniffed out a food critic in record time, and plied them with the very best. Gaining an unbiased review of the restaurant as a whole was her goal. Even if she got through the first course without being spotted, she’d consider it a win.
She pulled her fake fur around her shoulders and gave her name to the hostess.
The trendily dressed woman cringed. “We’re booked up for reservations months in advance,” she informed them in crisp tones.
Miranda pursed her lips. “I’m a distant cousin of JJ Abrams. He’s going to cast me in his new Star Trek movie. I’d advise you to check again.”
The woman disappeared to get the maitre’d.
Gavin lowered his head to speak against her ear. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Shush. Don’t ruin my cover. I warned you I was working tonight.”
“If anyone catches this on YouTube, I’m ruined.” His piercing blue eyes held a mixture of shock and pure lust. She bit her lip and tried not to get distracted by the sexy black Calvin Klein suit that hugged lean thighs and broad shoulders. He hadn’t shaved, and scruff hugged his jaw and chin, giving him a dangerous look. A fedora lay low on his brow. The Rolex watch and fake diamond earring gleamed. Yum.
Her own outfit consisted of hardly any material. Posing as the trashy trophy of a rich man, she’d poured herself into a fire engine red dress that barely covered her ass and accented her boobs. The blonde wig and heavy make-up disguised her red hair and pale skin. As the new celebrity food critic, gaining entrance without preference was key.
She loved the food industry. It was really screwed up.
The woman was replaced by a distinguished older man with salted hair, skinny hands, and a crinkled nose. He led them to the table, wrapped in a cloud of judgment for his new seedy customers that had forced their way into his establishment. Gavin fell into his part with ease and growled as the man took a quick peek down her dress. The menus were thrust into their hands and he hurried away.
“What if someone recognizes me? Pop will have a heart attack.” His worry regarding his father softened her heart, and she squeezed his hand across the table.
“Don’t worry, Sonny.” A giggle escaped at the name he detested from The Godfather. “What are we eating?”
“Anything you want, doll. Money is no object.”
“Good evening, sir. Madame.” The waiter appeared and recited the specials. Miranda made notes of the menu, calculating the specials, prices, and studying the decor. The dining area was tight and people’s conversations were easy to overhear. The crystal was top notch, the linen sharply pressed, and the chandelier fake. She noted the waiter never asked if they wanted tap water, just plunked down the sparkling at $4.99 per bottle. Interesting. The waiter spoke to Gavin and ignored her. “Would you like to begin with an appetizer?”
She jumped in. “Escargot, please.”
Not meeting her eyes, his pencil scratched the pad. “And you, sir?”
“The goat cheese special.”
“Excellent. Are you ready to order?”
“I had a question on the menu,” she chirped. Yep, there was the frown. Judgmental. His gaze took in her cheap dress, clown make-up, and platinum hair. “Which is better? The lamb shank or duck?”