And suddenly he was picturing what it would be like to kiss her.
It was unacceptable.
Wrong.
And going to stop.
* * *
THE NUMBER OF reporters outside the coffee shop had doubled since that morning. As Liam drove down the street that cornered the front of their building, instead of pulling up out front, Gabrielle eyed the batch of them and groaned inwardly when she recognized Attitude. She’d yet to tell Liam about that piece of bad news in his already horrible day.
Driving around back, Liam pulled her car right up to their entrance and turned her keys over to the security guard who would park her car, leaving her to wonder how she was going to get her keys back.
“Your keys will be delivered to you upstairs,” Liam told her, as though he could read her mind now, too, in addition to knowing her order for Chinese without having to ask.
“I’ve taken the liberty to arrange for twenty-four-hour security both in front and back of the building,” Elliott said quietly as they left the car and went straight into the building.
Security was keeping paparazzi off the back lot, but cameras had zoom lenses and Gabrielle didn’t want to take any more chances of having any part of her splashed on the news.
“I’ll be heading home,” Elliott continued as they walked with purpose toward the elevator that would take her straight to her apartment. Where she could assess the damages while Liam got cleaned up.
She’d heard, in the car on the way home, how he’d come to be smudged. And had been glad that she’d been in the backseat, having asked him to drive, so he couldn’t see her sudden smile. The antics—gaining access to his father’s estate through the old gatehouse—reminded her of the Liam she’d known in college. That boy had been nearly dauntless when it came to reaching a goal.
“For the next few days, I’m going to insist that you call me before you leave the building,” Elliott was saying to Liam.
“I’d rather you follow Gabi.” Liam stood tall, briefcase in hand, as they waited for the elevator. “People saw her come bail us out. She’s been inadvertently put into the limelight now, too. I won’t have her harmed, or in any way hassled...”
“Forget it, Liam,” she said dryly. She wasn’t one of his fragile hothouse flowers who didn’t know how to change a tire. Or shoot a gun. She didn’t need his protection. “You’re the one they want. You’re the one who’s had a threatening letter and a vandalized car. You’re the one with a billionaire father who’s been arrested for stealing from people.”
“I can’t be two places at once,” Elliott said, looking at Liam. “If you want to stay put here with the security in place, I can make sure Gabrielle gets to and from work without mishap.”
She opened her mouth to tell them that they were being ludicrous, but the elevator doors opened and in those two seconds, Liam said, “You’ve got a deal. Have a good evening,” and ushered Gabrielle in.
She was not going to be watched. She wasn’t one of the rich and famous.
“I liked it when Marie and I were just nobodies.” She said the words, somewhat peevishly, as they traveled slowly up to the second floor. She was going to call Elliott Tanner before morning and tell him to stick to Liam.
Just because he’d said he’d stay home didn’t mean he would. And if today was anything to go by, he clearly needed watching more than she did.
The man had no radar when it came to putting himself in danger. Growing up privileged seemed to have given him a false sense of security. “Thank you for all you did for me today,” Liam replied. “You’re going to see a bonus on your check.”
The words were just the slap in the face she needed.
She might be Liam Connelly’s friend of more than ten years, might even be inadvertently falling in love with him, but right now she was just his paid attorney.
It would do her good to remember that.
* * *
ALL SHE REALLY wanted was to have a salad alone, in peace and quiet. Texting Marie to let her know she was home—a safety habit they’d fallen into in college—she kicked off her shoes as soon as she was in their door, picking them up to carry them back to the shoe holder hanging in the closet.
Liam had asked her to meet him upstairs in half an hour. And even if he hadn’t, she’d have had to see him. She still had to confess her idiocy of the morning.
And pray that he didn’t figure out that after more than ten years of being his platonic friend, she’d suddenly developed intense, nonplatonic feelings for him.
They had to talk about the trespassing charges and how she was going to go about working with his father to have them dismissed. They had no time to deal with personal drama. Walter could play hardball all he wanted, but she had too much on him for him to refuse to drop the charges. She’d already figured out that much. All she had to do was threaten to expose his affair as more evidence of his overall duplicitous nature, adding in that he’d been carrying on with Missy while his sick wife was still alive.
She’d never follow through on such a threat. But if playing rough with Liam’s father was the only way to get him to drop the charges against his son, she’d do so.