Kathleen O'Reilly - New York Nights

“I really can’t afford to sit on empty real estate for a few weeks, you know? Why does everything take so freaking long?”

“What’s with you?”

“Patience is overrated, Daniel.”

Lloyd laughed, then coughed and then lifted his glass. “But a good man’s credit isn’t. Can you pour me another scotch and water, Gabe?”

IT WAS TWENTY MINUTES after closing and the bar was empty. The regulars had left with a chorus of goodbyes, and Daniel had carted off a night deposit that would help offset the cost of the renovations for the space next door. Assuming there was going to be a space next door.

Tessa poured the leftover ice into the sink and began scrubbing down the stainless-steel countertop. She worked quietly, leaving him alone, but he could hear her thinking. Normally the problem with the building permit was something he’d confide in her, but normal didn’t feel right anymore. Sex could do that to two people.

Finally, she laid down her rag. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” snapped Gabe. She stared, silently calling him a liar, and he sighed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’re ready to get started next door, aren’t you?”

Yeah, he was more than ready. As soon as he’d seen the place go up for sale, he’d swooped in for the buy, killing his finances in the process, but it’d be worth it. When Gabe committed, he was in it for the long haul, and the restoration would be perfect. “I can start on some of it myself. Nobody will know.”

“You should get Daniel to help,” said Tessa.

“He’s got enough to think about without having to share in my responsibilities, as well.”

“He’s part owner.”

“‘The silent part’ is what he always says.”

“I can help,” she offered. “Dad was pretty handy around the house, and I’ve been known to perform electrical work for food.”

Here was Tessa, no place to live, struggling to find a real career, and she wanted to help. “Thanks, but don’t worry about it.”

Quietly Tessa went back to work, and Gabe closed off the taps. Another few minutes passed before she spoke again.

“You didn’t say anything to Daniel, did you? One day. He called it. He should have won the pool.”

Yes, Daniel should have won the pool. Yes, the world should know what a weakhearted bastard Gabe was, but Gabe wasn’t ready to admit that yet. “Do you really want me to say something, Tessa? Let the pool go. In a few days everybody will forget about it, they’ll be betting on horse races, and then I’ll get Sean to refund the money.”

“I don’t like being dishonest.” She pulled a hand through her hair, her breasts lifting with the movement. Gabe didn’t want to notice, but he did.

“It’s better if everybody knows?”

She met his eyes, and Gabe felt a stirring in his gut, a stirring of blood that would only mean trouble, especially for her. “Did you hate last night?” she asked.

Here it was, nearly one in the morning, and Tessa wanted to talk. Now.

Outside, the late-night streets were quiet and still. Inside, Gabe felt as though there were an impending nuclear explosion. Okay, fine, she wanted to talk? He would talk. “It’s biologically impossible for a man to hate or regret sex. Everything else is within the realm of possibility. But sex? No.”

“Oh,” she said and went back to wiping the counter, which even a moron could see was already spotless.

So the time for talking was now over. Gabe should feel happy. She could work. He could work, so he scanned over the inventory behind the three bars, counting stock for the next day, but the numbers started running together in his head.

Finally he stopped counting. “What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“Just ‘oh.’”

She sounded miffed, slightly defensive and hurt. The miffed he could handle, the defensive was completely normal, but the hurt was like a hot poker against his heart. So the time for talking was not over. “Tessa?”

She put down her rag. “I liked it,” she said, which came out like a confession rather than a compliment.

Gabe chose to ignore that important point and smiled. “I know.”

“At least once I got to the part where I could separate you from the other man.”

Gabe blinked. “What other man?”

She worked her mouth, struggling to explain, but eventually she got there. “You know, the not-you other man. Anyway, once I got over that hump, figuratively speaking, it was great. I didn’t know it could be like that.”

This time she gave him a half smile. Almost shy. And right then, it didn’t matter if it was one in the morning and he’d had three hours of sleep. Right at the moment Gabe could have scaled the George Washington Bridge single-handedly.

“Gabe?”

“What?” he asked, starting to like this conversation. Gabe wasn’t nearly the horndog that Sean was. Gabe worked too hard and didn’t worry a lot about sex. There was usually a willing female when his body got too tense. Yet this time it was Tessa and things were different. Last night had been different. He’d wanted to please her, wanted to make her scream.

Gabe had never thought about lust that way, never felt the hard kick inside him. But last night some switch had flipped on inside him, and now that he had gotten used to the sudden atomic surges in his cock, gotten used to the low-grade hum in his brain, he wasn’t ready to flip the switch back off again.

Weakling .

“Could we keep pretending?” Tessa asked.

“Pretending what?” he asked, wondering what pretending had to do with sex.

She waved a hand, searching for words. “Pretending that you’re…somebody else. For instance, a mysterious stranger who I don’t know and who never tells me his name.”

Ah, the male ego. Such a powerful force, so easily annihilated. Gabe looked at her, wondering what strategic move he’d done wrong last night, because it was obvious that while he’d been thinking screaming , she’d been thinking somebody else .

“I’m not sure I like that game.” Which was more polite than Hell, no .

“You liked it fine last night,” she reminded him.

“I didn’t know that’s the game we were playing last night. Hell, Tessa, I didn’t even know we were playing a game. I don’t know. I don’t think you’re ready. It’s only been four years—” Jeez “—you need to ease back into things. You shouldn’t have to pretend,” he said. Especially with me , he thought, keeping quiet on that one.

Her cheeks were flushed, not with anger but embarrassment, and Gabe couldn’t figure out why this game thing was so important to her, but he was willing to try and understand. For Tessa, he would trudge onward to comprehend the great unknown that was the female brain.

“It’s difficult for me because we’re friends, and I don’t want to mess with that, but I liked last night. I really liked last night and I think if I thought of you as someone else other than you—my friend—then it’d be easier. Does that make sense?”

Gabe considered it. “No.”

She frowned in frustration and then tried again. “A healthy fantasy life should be part of every woman’s innate sexuality,” she told him, sounding like something on a TV talk show. Maybe that’s where this was coming from? Maybe Tessa had decided to start living again and she thought Gabe was safe.

That should have been a comforting thought.

Gabe was uncomforted.

He leaned one hip against the bar, not sure what to say.

Tessa reached out a hand, touched him on the arm. One touch that felt like a brand. “Please.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Tessa shot him a cocky smile, the one she always used right before torching her Flaming Lemon Drop shooter. “Oh, yeah.”