Anne McAllister - Blood Brothers

“Well, not in some respects,” he agreed, adjusting his jeans carefully and wincing as he did so. “But, hey, it happens.”

“Well, it won’t happen again.” She didn’t look at him. She moved quickly, putting the photos into the folders Lord Stanton had sent them in. Then she stacked them in neat piles. Her hands shook.

Gabe came up behind her and she felt his breath on her neck. Her fingers curled into tight fists. “We’ll be more careful,” he agreed, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck and slipping his hands around her waist.

Freddie darted out of his embrace. She shook her head and spun around and wrapped her arms across her breasts. “No. We can’t.”

“What do you mean, we can’t? Can’t what?”

“Can’t…that.” Freddie couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t let herself say it! She shook her head again, angry at herself for having let things get that far. “We can’t,” she repeated.

“Can’t…kiss?” He sounded somewhere between amused and incredulous.

She steeled herself against him. “That’s right.”

“Can’t…touch?”

“No.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

As if she could give him a logical reason! “Because…because…it won’t do!”

“Oh for God’s sake! Don’t do that ‘lady of the manor’ act. ‘It won’t do,”’ he mocked theatrically. “Why the hell not? You want me. I want you!”

Fortunately, before Freddie could blurt out, “Yes,” she managed a split second’s thought.

“Our bodies,” she began with the precision of a governess splitting hairs, “are not the sum of us. While our bodies might wish closer contact, our minds, our hearts, our souls…feel otherwise.”

“Mine doesn’t.” Gabe looked straight at her with his clear blue gaze.

Freddie turned away. She hugged herself tighter. “Well, mine does.”

She couldn’t want him-couldn’t love him! Because that’s what it would mean if her heart and mind and soul felt the same way her body clearly did.

And he didn’t love her, either.

It was just that she was here. She was handy. He didn’t have anyone else. What would be an evening’s recreation for him would be a blow to the heart for her.

Determinedly Freddie shook her head again. “No,” she repeated. “Please. It was a…a mistake.”

“Was it?” Gabe didn’t move, just stood there looking at her. His hands hung loosely at his sides. And then, as if he couldn’t help it, he reached for her. “Freddie.” His voice was soft but insistent. Urgent. Beseeching.

She shook her bowed head resolutely. “No, Gabe. Please. Don’t ask me.”

His hands dropped, but still he didn’t move.

Finally she made herself look up at him, meet his gaze. “You said real cowboys follow orders, do what they’re supposed to.”

“And we’re not supposed to touch each other?” he challenged her.

Their gazes locked.

Gabe stood there, not even breathing while Freddie held her breath, too, and prayed for the strength to resist.

Resist. Resist.

She managed to shake her head. “No. We’re not. This is…tempting. But it’s not… It’s too…dangerous.”

“Dangerous.” He repeated the word as if he was trying it on for size. He seemed to chew on it a bit, then his mouth curved bitterly at one corner. “Final word?”

One last chance. Are you going to grab it, Freddie? she asked herself. “Final word,” she muttered.

“Whatever you say, Fred.” And he turned and walked out the door.

In the morning he called Earl. “I’m outa here.”

The old man coughed, sounding like he’d choked on a crumpet. “Gabe? Is that you? For God’s sake, man, what’s going on down there? Every time I ring your office some snippy little pigeon tells me you’re too busy to come to the telephone!”

So, Beatrice had learned. Well, good. Gabe supposed he was glad.

It was what he’d come for, wasn’t it? To turn things around.

“What did you say?” Earl demanded. “What are you out of?”

“Here,” Gabe said flatly. “I’ve been here six weeks. That’s long enough.”

Earl made a disapproving clucking sound. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be dismayed. You lasted longer than I thought even if you didn’t get the job done.”

“I got the job done!”

He told his grandfather he’d remedied the lack of local news. He told him about his new correspondents-Mrs. Peek and her cohorts from the Women’s Institute. He told the old man that the local touch brought back a bit of advertising. Beatrice, given a shot of confidence, had helped out enormously.

“They’re advertising with us now,” Gabe said. “Revenues have increased sixfold.”

“Sixfold?” Earl was gasping for air.

“So far. It’s a risk, admittedly. If they don’t see an increase in business from the ads, chances are they won’t keep it up after six months or so. But I’ve got six-month commitments out of most of them. That ought to give whoever you bring in a chance to solidify things.”

“That fellow Percy-”

“Not Percy,” Gabe said. “Not if you want it to work.”

“Really?” Earl was intrigued. “Who would you suggest?”

“Beatrice. The one who wouldn’t let you talk to me.”

“The secretary?” Earl sputtered.

“She keeps the office running. She’s a quick study. She knows which side her bread is buttered on. She understands the business side of things. And she makes a damn fine cup of coffee.” She’d demanded that he teach her.

“Humph. Coffee? Ugh. Beatrice, eh? I’ll think about it,” he said. “I want all these recommendations on paper. I want a rundown of all the figures since you arrived. I want a starting point and a current update.”

“I’ll fax them to you.”

“Bring them. You’re coming to see me before you leave certainly. Aren’t you?”

Was he?

Gabe guessed he was. He would have preferred to simply hightail it right out of the country without having to undergo Earl’s scrutiny. But who knew when he’d see the old badger again? And he wanted the satisfaction of showing his grandfather he’d done far better than the old man had expected, didn’t he?

Of course he did.

But mostly he wanted to be gone.

He didn’t want to have to sit across the table from Freddie any longer and look at the woman who wanted him with her body but not with her heart and soul. He didn’t want to see her, to listen to her, to talk to her.

There was no point, damn it!

“When are you coming?” Earl asked.

“Soon,” Gabe promised. “By the end of the week for sure.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised when he said he was leaving.

He’d ridden in, rescued the Gazette, and was about to ride off into the sunset. It was exactly what cowboys did.

All the same, she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach when he said he’d be leaving on Friday.

Both Charlie and Emma looked positively stricken. Then Charlie said hopefully, “Just to go to London? To see your grandfather?”

“I’m stopping there,” Gabe agreed. “Then I’m going home. To Montana.” His tone was firm, his words determined, but he didn’t look at any of them.

After the first instant Freddie didn’t look at him either. She saw Charlie swallow and Emma bite her lip. It was all she could do not to bite her own. At the same time, she told herself it was just as well.

Better than having him hanging around. Smiling at her. Teasing her.

Tempting her.

She didn’t know how long she would be able to resist him on a daily basis. The memories of a night of loving Gabe McBride might be wonderful, but he made no promises-they had no future.

Not that she wanted one.