Tame Me

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Mallory gave the tea time to steep, then wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip, hoping to counteract the exhaustion that was suddenly sweeping through her.

Gabe looked over at her, far too astute for comfort. “You all right?”

She sat up a little straighter. “You mean, except for having been so rudely snatched off the street?”

“Yes. Except for that.”

“I’m fine.”

“You mentioned that it had been a long day. Where were you, anyway?”

She might be tired but she wasn’t dead, and she certainly wasn’t discussing her failure on the employment front. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Where else? I was off meeting Raoul, my secret lover.”

“Ah.” He took a sip of his coffee. “He must be a real prize to send you home on the bus.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? He’s French.”

“My sincere condolences.” His tone was perfectly solemn, but those jewel-tone eyes suddenly gleamed with a touch of laughter.

It was unexpected. And shockingly attractive. Just like him, she thought, studying that symmetrical, good-looking face. The strong cheekbones, level eyebrows and sensual mouth were enough to turn any woman’s head. But it was the self-assurance, the surety of purpose, the wicked intelligence that held her gaze.

She felt the pull of his appeal clear to her toes. It didn’t mean anything, of course. She was simply experiencing the ever-present hum of awareness she felt whenever she was near him.

And if perhaps there was something more? If, as their gazes meshed in that moment of shared humor, she inexplicably felt connected to him?

An illusion, she told herself sharply. One she couldn’t afford to indulge. Lifting her cup to her mouth, she used the movement as an excuse to look away. “Why were you waiting for me tonight, anyway?”

There was a moment’s silence. “I came to give you this.” Pulling out his wallet, he extracted two hundred-dollar bills and three twenties—the exact amount of the money order she’d sent him to pay for the locksmith—and held it out.

“Then you wasted a trip,” she said, making no move to take it. “I’m grateful for the thought, but as it happens I recently received an unexpected windfall so I can afford to pay for—”

“No.” For a second his mouth tightened with exasperation, then his expression smoothed out. “I’m not taking your money, Mallory. Not for a meal I coerced you into ordering. And certainly not for hardware and labor—” before she could stop him, he picked up her purse, opened it and tucked the cash into an inside pocket “—for a job you didn’t have any control over.”