“I never said that.”
“It’s in your eyes, sweetheart. They’re the windows to the soul, remember. They’ll give you away every time.”
She immediately looked chagrined. Rudeness apparently was inconceivable to someone of her unfailingly polite Southern upbringing. Every time she crossed the boundaries of what she considered polite conversation, she looked guilty. And apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she said, right on cue.
“Hell, you don’t have to be sorry on my account. I like where I am. I like who I am. What about you? What does it take to make you happy, Gabrielle Clayton?”
“Success,” she said instantly, but that trace of uncertainty was back in her eyes.
“How do you measure success? By the number of shares of stock you’ve sold? By the size of the portfolios you handle? By the take-overs you’ve manipulated? When you played Monopoly, were you only happy when you’d bought up all the real estate?”
She looked uncomfortable with the question. “I wanted to win, if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t you?”
“Sure, but I only compete with myself. I don’t have to conquer the world.”
“We’re all entitled to different goals.”
“Don’t patronize me, Gaby.”
She flushed guiltily again. “That’s not what I was doing.”
“Wasn’t it? I’m sure you think it’s just terrific that I’m content when the paint goes on smoothly. Isn’t it nice that Paul can be happy with so little?” When she started to deny it, he shook his head. “Those eyes again, sweetheart. They say it all.”
“And what about your eyes?” she snapped back. “You’ve jumped to a few conclusions about me, too. Rich. Spoiled. What else, Paul? What labels did you stick on me at first sight?”
He slumped back in the booth and grinned ruefully. “Touché. Maybe we ought to start all over again without any preconceptions.”
“Why?” she asked softly. “In a few weeks I’ll be out of your life. What we think of each other won’t matter at all.”
“Are you so sure of that?” he responded just as quietly, not sure why he was so quick to defend the possibility of a future for them.
He saw the heat rise in her cheeks, caught yet another glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. “Never mind. We’ve gotten entirely too heavy for an outing that was meant to relax you. Let’s play hooky for the rest of the day and just have some fun.”
“But the apartment, all those boxes, you promised to get the medicine chest and the towel rack…”
He heard the token resistance in her voice, saw the wavering resolve in her eyes and wondered how long it had been since she had allowed herself the simple pleasure of an afternoon off.
“Tomorrow will be soon enough, Gaby.”
A spark of irritation flared in her eyes and something else, a surprising wistfulness. It confirmed his suspicion about the lack of stolen moments she’d captured for her own joy. He played to that tiny hint of vulnerability.
“Please,” he coaxed, “Gabrielle.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Despite its brightness, the sun hadn’t taken the crystal sharp bite out of the fall air. Gabrielle shivered as they strolled toward the subway entrance at Paul’s favored leisurely pace. Seeking warmth, she poked her icy hands into the pockets of her denim jacket. She should have worn the fox coat, but it would have looked out of place with her jeans and sweater. It would also have underscored the vast differences between herself and Paul. His idea of style seemed to consist of clean jeans, an unrumpled shirt and a sheepskin jacket that was several years removed from the sheep.
“Come on,” he said, apparently noticing the effect the brisk air was having on her. “It’s freezing out here. I’ll race you.”
Gabrielle’s prompt protest was lost as he took off with the loping, natural stride of an athlete. She sputtered indignantly, but was too much of a competitor to ignore the challenge. By the end of the block, the cold air hurt her lungs and her side ached, but she was filled with the strangest sense of exhilaration. Her whole body felt alive with anticipation.
Paul grinned at her and she found herself smiling back, suddenly more lighthearted than she’d felt in years. It was a beautiful day, her housing problem was temporarily resolved and until Monday there was not a thing in the world she could do about finding a new job. Paul was a handsome, sexy companion with a sense of humor. Why not enjoy this day, this moment?
“That run put some color in your cheeks,” he said approvingly.
She shook her head with feigned impatience. “What is this fixation you have about my coloring? Did you have aspirations for being a doctor?”
“No medical hopes at all,” he said, taking a slow step toward her. Gabrielle’s breath caught in her throat as he reached over, caught a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. The unexpected gesture startled her with its tenderness. His rough knuckles grazed her cheek and sent warmth flooding through her.
“It’s not your coloring,” he said, his intent gaze lingering. “It’s your health I’m worried about. You don’t take care of yourself properly.”
“And you still want me to ride the subway?” she retorted. She was teasing, but she was unable to hide the slight catch in her voice.
“Now, with me, you’re perfectly safe,” he promised in a voice that could have seduced a saint.
Their gazes collided. Her pulse beat erratically and she wondered just how true his statement about her safety actually was. The instinct to run was powerful, the temptation to stay even stronger.
They spent the rest of the day exploring Paul’s New York. It wasn’t the same part of the city Gabrielle had grown used to seeing. Instead of the elegance of Lincoln Center, they wandered through the colorful seediness of Chinatown. The narrow, crowded streets smelled of garlic and ginger and incense. Shop windows were jammed with displays of gaudy trinkets side by side with
