Bared to You (Crossfire 1)

I beat my fist against his chest, which was as effectual as hitting a rock wall. "What's wrong with you? You can go out with a catty bitch who calls me a whore and thinks she's going to marry you, but I can't have lunch with a dear friend who's been pulling for you from the beginning?"

"Eva." He cupped the back of my head with one hand and pressed his cheek to my temple. "Maggie just happened to be at the same restaurant where I had dinner with my business associates."

"I don't care. You want to talk about a look on someone's face. The look on yours...How could you look at her like that after what she said to me?"

"Angel..." His lips moved ardently over my face. "That look was for you. Maggie caught me outside and I told her I was heading home to you. I can't help how I look when I'm thinking about us being alone together."

"And you expect me to believe she smiled about that?"

"She told me to tell you hello, but I figured that wouldn't go over well, and there was no way I was ruining our night over her."

My arms slid around his waist beneath his jacket. "We need to talk. Tonight, Gideon. There are things I have to tell you. If a reporter looks in the right place and gets lucky...We have to keep our relationship private or end it. Either would be better for you."

Gideon cupped my face and pressed his forehead to mine. "Neither is an option. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."

I pushed up onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his. Our tongues stroked and dipped, the kiss wildly passionate. I was vaguely aware of the multitude of people milling around us, the buzz of numerous conversations, and the steady rumble of the ceaseless midtown traffic, but none of it mattered while I was sheltered by Gideon. Cherished by him. He was both tormentor and pleasurer, a man whose mood swings and volatile passions rivaled my own.

"There," he whispered, running his fingertips down my cheek. "Let that go viral."

"You're not listening to me, you crazy stubborn man. I have to go."

"We'll ride home together after work." He backed away, holding my hand until distance pulled our fingers apart.

When I turned toward the ivy-draped restaurant, I saw Mark and Steven waiting for me by the entrance. They made such a pair with Mark in his suit and tie, and Steven in his worn jeans and boots.

Steven stood with his hands in his pockets and big grin on his attractive face. "I feel like I should applaud. That was better than watching a chick flick."

My face heated and I shifted on my feet.

Mark opened the door and waved me inside. "I think you can ignore my previous words of wisdom about Cross's womanizing."

"Thanks for not firing me," I replied wryly as we waited for the hostess to check our reservation and table. "Or at least feeding me first."

Steven patted my shoulder. "Mark can't afford to lose you."

Pulling out a chair for me, Mark smiled. "How else will I give Steven regular updates on your love life? He's a soap opera addict, you know. He loves romantic dramas."

I snorted. "You're kidding."

Steven ran a hand over his chin and smiled. "I'll never admit it one way or the other. A man's got to have his secrets."

My mouth curved, but I was painfully aware of my own hidden truths. And how quickly time was passing before I'd have to reveal them.

Five o'clock found me steeling myself to divulge my secrets. I was tense and somber when Gideon and I slid into the Bentley, and my disquiet only worsened when I felt him studying the side of my averted face. When he took my hand and lifted it to his lips, I felt like crying. I was still trying to adjust after our argument in the park, and that was the least of what we had to deal with.

We didn't speak until we arrived at his apartment.

When we entered his home, he led me straight through his beautiful, expansive living room and down the hall to his bedroom. There, laid out on the bed, was a fabulous cocktail dress the color of Gideon's eyes and a floor-length black silk robe.

"I had a little time to shop before dinner yesterday," he explained.

My apprehension lifted slightly, softened by pleasure at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

He set my bag on a chair by the dresser. "I'd like you to get comfortable. You can wear the robe or something of mine. I'll open a bottle of wine and we'll just settle in. When you're ready, we'll talk."

"I'd like to take a quick shower." I wished we could separate what happened in the park from what I had to tell him so that each issue was dealt with on its own merits, but I didn't have a choice. Every day was another opportunity for someone else to tell Gideon what he needed to hear from me.

"Whatever you want, angel. Make yourself at home."

As I kicked off my heels and moved into the bathroom, I felt the weight of his concern, but my revelations would have to hold until I could compose myself better. In an effort to gain that control, I took my time in the shower. Unfortunately, it made me remember the one we'd taken together just that morning. Had that been both our first and last as a couple?

When I was ready, I found Gideon standing by the couch in the living room. He'd changed into black silk pajama bottoms that hung low around his hips. Nothing else. A small blaze flickered in the fireplace and a bottle of wine sat in an ice-filled bucket on the coffee table. A grouping of ivory candles had been clustered as a centerpiece, their golden glow the only illumination besides the fire.

"Excuse me," I said from the threshold of the room. "I'm looking for Gideon Cross, the man who doesn't have romance in his repertoire."

He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so at odds with the mature sexuality of his bared body. "I don't think about it that way. I just try to guess what might please you, and then I give it a shot and hope for the best."