Rachel Gibson - It Must Be Love

Gabrielle took her keys from the pocket of her skirt. "Please don't write me or try to contact me in any way."

As she walked through the prison gates, a feeling of freedom brushed her spine that had nothing to do with the chain link and razor wire she'd left behind her. She'd closed one part of her past; now she was ready to start her future. Ready to turn in a new direction and see where life would take her.

She would always regret the loss of Anomaly. She'd loved her store and she'd worked hard to make it succeed, but she had a new idea churning in her brain that woke her up at nights and had her reaching for a legal pad. For the first time in a long time, she was excited and charged with positive energy. Her karma had taken a turn for the better, and it was about time, too. She was real sick of accumulative punishment for past misdeeds.

Thinking of her new life brought her thoughts around to Joe Shanahan. She didn't even try to delude herself. She would never be completely over her feelings for him, but each day got a bit easier. She could look at the paintings of him in her studio without feeling as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. She still felt a bit hollow at times, but the pain had lessened. She could go for hours now without thinking of him. She figured by this time next year, she'd almost be ready to look for a new soul mate.

Silent wipers cleared raindrops from the windshield as the last limousine wound its way up the wet mountain road to the Hillard mansion. With each splash of the tires, each inch the vehicle rolled up the ribbon of asphalt, the knot in Gabrielle's stomach twisted. She knew from experience that no amount of visualization, no amount of deep breathing, was going to help. But then, they never had where Joe Shanahan was concerned. It had been one month, two weeks, and three days since she'd told him she loved him and he'd walked away. It was time to face him again.

She was ready.

Gabrielle clasped her hands in her lap and turned her attention to the mansion ablaze with lights. The limousine rolled to a stop in front of the canopy that had been erected from the front door to the drive, and a doorman stood ready to assist Gabrielle.

She was late.

Probably the last to arrive. She'd planned it that way. She'd planned everything, from the loosely tucked braid in her hair, to her black sheath dress that hit her at midthigh. From the front, the dress looked conservative, like something Audrey Hepburn would wear, but seen from the rear, the sheath plunged to the small of her back. Something sexy.

She'd come prepared.

The inside of the Hillards' home somewhat resembled a hotel. The doors to several rooms had been thrown open to create one huge space filled with people. The parquet floors, cornices, arched doorways, frieze and columns were spectacular and overwhelming all at once, but they were nothing compared with The Potato King's view of the valley below. Not that there was ever a doubt-Norris Hillard had the hands-down best panoramic view of the city.

A small band filled the room with soft jazz, and a knot of people danced to the soothing music. From where she stood, Gabrielle could see a bar and buffet against the far wall in a room to her left. She didn't see Joe, and she took a deep cleansing breath, then slowly let it out

But he was here somewhere. Here with the rest of the detectives and sergeants and lieutenants dressed in suits. Wives and girlfriends hanging on their arms, chatting and laughing as if tonight was just any other party. As if her stomach weren't in knots and she weren't so nervous that she had to force herself to stand perfectly still.

Then she felt his gaze a split second before her eyes locked with his, the man who'd made her love him, then broken her heart. He stood within a small circle of people, and his dark gaze reached down deep inside and touched her battered heart. She'd prepared herself for that treacherous reaction, and for the warm flush drifting across her flesh. She'd known it would happen, and she forced herself to stand there and absorb as much of his face as she could see. Subdued lighting from the ornate chandelier above his head caught in the curls touching his ears. Her gaze moved to his straight nose and the mouth she'd dreamed of kissing her all over. She made herself feel every little flutter of her pulse and hitch in her breath. There were no surprises. She'd expected this would happen.

The crowd parted, and Gabrielle's gaze took in the fit of his dark gray suit and white shirt. The width of his shoulders and his light gray tie. Now she'd seen him. She hadn't died. She'd be okay. She could close this chapter in her life. She could start her future. But, unlike the last time she'd seen Kevin, she didn't feel free of Joe.

Instead of freedom from her anger, it welled up inside. The last time she'd seen him, she'd been so-so desperate for him to love her. So sure that he had to feel something . But he hadn't, and all she had left was pain in her heart and anger in her soul. So much for true love.

She let her gaze linger on his face a moment longer, then she turned and headed for the bar. Never again would she love a man more than he loved her. True love sucked.

She'd turned her back on him. She'd walked away, and he felt as if someone had kicked in his chest. His gaze followed her auburn hair as she made her way through the crowd, and with every step that carried her farther away from him, his chest got a little tighter. Yet at the same time, he'd never felt more alive . Little pleasure currents zipped along his nerves and raised the hair on his arms. The crowd in the Hillard mansion moved and shifted, their voices a clustered hum in his ears. Everything around him seemed so meaningless and unimportant. Everything but her.

It hadn't happened like the knock-out punch he'd always expected. No bolt of lightning to let him know he wanted her in his life forever. Nothing painful about it. Loving her was more like a cool breeze and warm sunshine on his face. Simple truth. It was like Gabrielle herself. And all he'd had to do to see it was clear away clutter and get out of his own way.

"The son of a bitch was hiding beneath the bed with his girlfriend," laughed a cop from the Uniform Division who'd been the first to respond to Mr. Hillard's call the night his painting had been stolen. The other police and their wives laughed too, but not Joe. His thoughts were occupied across the room.

Gabrielle looked even better than he remembered. Which was near impossible, because he remembered her looking like some sort of sun-worshiping goddess. He'd wondered if she'd come tonight, and until the moment she'd walked in, he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, waiting for her.

He excused himself and wove his way through the crowd, nodding to the men he worked with and their wives but keeping his eyes on the redhead with the dress that had no back to it. Keeping track of her wasn't hard. All he had to do was follow the trail of swiveling heads. He remembered the night he'd asked her to wear something sexy to Kevin's party. He'd been half joking, trying to irritate her a little bit, and she'd purposely worn that awful blue checked thing. But tonight she'd definitely worn something sexy. He had an urge to throw his jacket over her shoulders.

His progress was slowed several times as he moved past friends and colleagues who wanted him to stop and chat. By the time he caught up with Gabrielle at the end of the bar, the only other single detective, Dale Parker, had zeroed in and struck up a conversation with her. Normally, Joe didn't have anything against the rookie, but the attention Dale showed Gabrielle's dress irritated the hell out of him.

"Hey, Shannie," Dale said as he handed Gabrielle a glass of red wine. She smiled her thanks to the younger man and, for the first time in Joe's life, jealousy swamped him, grabbed ahold and pulled him under.