Because it was a sign of respect.
He wanted to finish this investigation with Olivia. He might even want to continue their working relationship beyond that. It was still a nascent idea, born when she'd joked earlier that he'd be happy to be rid of her. He wouldn't be.
If she found out about his deal with Morgan, though, their partnership would end. And he had a feeling persistence and concessions wouldn't fix it this time.
He should tell her.
Gabriel looked across the living room at her bedroom door. It could wait. It should--
He rose and walked over. Though there wasn't any light coming from under the door, that didn't mean she was asleep yet. As he leaned in to listen, he accidentally brushed the door and it clicked open.
He put his fingertips against the door as he leaned closer for a better listen. It opened an inch. He reached for the handle to close it, but took a quick look first, to see if she was awake.
She was in bed, sound asleep, covers pulled away. She was facing the other direction, hair fanning over the pillow. She wore an oversized T-shirt and it had bunched up around her thighs, her feet bare, legs bare, and that's when he realized that he wasn't looking through the crack anymore. He was standing in her bedroom, a step past the door.
He backtracked fast. Once outside, he pulled the door shut and retreated to the sofa bed. As he sat on the edge, he felt the cat's stare and looked up to see it on the couch arm.
"I didn't do anything," he murmured.
Nor would he. That was one crime no one could ever accuse him of. He'd never even chased a reluctant conquest. It would be like finding a handful of pennies scattered on the sidewalk and deciding you really must have the one wedged in the crack. Willing partners were plentiful. Besides, seduction might suggest he wanted more than an hour of a woman's time, which he decidedly did not.
He looked back at Olivia's bedroom door. Seduction hadn't been his intention anyway. This was a business relationship. She was a client.
He'd only wanted to talk to her. But the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced such a discussion wasn't necessary--or wise. What if confessing wasn't enough, despite what she claimed?
He should never have agreed to Morgan's offer. While there was--he still believed--nothing wrong with what he'd done, the hassle wasn't worth the payment. Taking care of Olivia was easy enough. She didn't need it, if he was being honest. But working with Morgan? A pain in the ass. The man ha
d left five messages in the last few days, panicked over some newspaper photo of him with another woman. He blamed his mother. Gabriel hadn't bothered getting the details. Obviously Morgan had screwed around, been caught, and now he'd say anything to clear his name.
James Morgan was an idiot. If Gabriel had any doubts on the matter, working with him had erased them. Morgan lost Olivia through his own cowardice and stupidity, and he didn't deserve to get her back. Gabriel had done the right thing. Olivia was better off without him, and given her flirting with Ricky, she knew it.
But there was the possibility she wouldn't see it that way.
He should tell her.
Gabriel stood. Then he sat down again.
Yes, he'd tell her--later. After he'd ended his arrangement with Morgan. That's how he'd fix this. He'd call Morgan in the morning and say he'd changed his mind and wire back his money. Olivia would accept this better if he'd already quit and refunded the retainer. She might not truly understand what it took for him to return money he'd rightfully earned, but she would still appreciate the gesture. It would cement his sincerity, and she would forgive him.
Everything would be fine. He just needed to be patient and handle this properly.
Ignoring the cat, he stripped off his shirt and crawled onto the sofa bed.
Chapter Fifty-nine
At 5:30 a.m., I was awakened by a buzzing. I leapt up thinking there were bees in my room, which meant I'd have a visitor--and if I killed the bee, the visit would not be pleasant. It was not, however, an omen, but only my cell phone. Which, I suppose, is a "visit" of sorts.
I picked it up, muttering, "Gabriel," then glowered at the screen, saw Will Evans's number, and remembered that Gabriel was presumably in my living room.
I answered.
"Olivia." My name came out on a sigh of relief. "I am terribly sorry to call you at this hour. I've been trying to wait for a more reasonable one, but I simply couldn't hold out any longer."
"What's wrong?"
"It's come to my attention that you're working with Gabriel Walsh again."
Damn. That was fast.