Page 78 of The Heiress's First Date

“But what if I have a new dream?” I ask, totally unsure. Can you really change your mind so quickly? It’s been a week. An amazing week. I almost don’t trust my good fortune.

She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Then go make it happen.”

???

Gabe greets me in the foyer. “Hey. You eaten yet?”

He’s wearing well-loved jeans and a t-shirt that hugs him loosely in all the right places.

Desire swamps me, and for a moment, I let the fantasy play out in my head. Striding forward, closing a hand around his throat, pulling him in for a kiss. I’d take my time to learn him and what he likes, but then everything would go off the rails as we gave into our attraction.

I come back to Earth with him waving a hand in front of my face.

“You okay?”

I shake my head, clearing the erotic images from my mind. Which is harder than it should be. “Yeah. And yeah, I had dinner with Ava.”

“Ava?”

Is it just my imagination, or does he sound a little... something. Protective? Concerned? Curious?

“My sister.”

“Ahh.”

He takes a step back, then turns, all easy, fluid movement. I follow him into the kitchen, looking my fill.

“Something smells good,” I say, inhaling the deliciously rich scent. Herbs and onions with a hint of something just a little spicy. It’s bold, just like the owner of the apartment.

“I had my housekeeper whip something up.” He moves to the stove, which has the overhead light on, making the posh kitchen extra cozy. The saturated cabinet color and brushed brass accents are surprising choices. I would have thought he’d prefer cool grays and painful neutrals. After all, that’d been the original intent with his beach house. Prison minimalist.

But the cabinetry is just a few shades deeper than his eyes. Barefoot, he pads to a drawer and pulls out a spoon. Then stretches overhead for a bowl. His shirt rides up, showing off a sliver of skin.

There it is again. That funny tremor in my middle.

“Have you heard from Katherine?” he asks as he ladles what looks like some sort of stew from the white Dutch oven on the stove. Top of the line, of course.

“Yeah, I talked to her before I headed to Ava’s.” Before I crawled up the wall like a demented horror movie villain. Good food and good company turned that around.

He nods. “She sounds happy,” he says as if it pleases him.

Which is wild because they gave each other a wide margin for so long.

“And Alex?” I ask.

Gabe wipes up a spill, seeming a little lost in thought. This isn’t the same man I met a week ago. Some of his sharp corners have worn down.

“He seems... I’ve never heard him sound like that.” He moves his plate to a spot at the end of the island where two stools sit. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

“Red?”

“Is there any other kind?” I tease.

He huffs a laugh and disappears around the corner. I can’t help but follow, curious about his home. I’ve been here before but didn’t pay any attention to the color of his upholstery or the fact that he has an epic wine cellar. “Holy shit.”

The words tumble from my lips as I step into the softly lit room. It smells of polished wood and money. Lots and lots of money. Thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of wine. And at the far end of the room is Gabe. Squatting in front of the far racks.

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