Kathleen O'Reilly - New York Nights

“I’m more than your friend, Tessa.”

“No, Gabe. No, you’re not,” she said, the ultimate knife in the back.

He looked into her eyes, trying to read her mind, trying to see the things that he had always grasped so easily before. There was no freaking way that Gabe had misread this situation, and Tessa seemed ready to cry.

“You don’t mean that.”

She nodded, her lips pursed tightly together.

“You don’t want this?” Gabe asked, still waiting for her to tell him the truth. But they were good together. In fact, they were better than good together.

“I can’t want this,” she stated slowly, with a dignity that was usually lacking from her words.

Gabe rose up from the table, needing to stop looking at her. He wanted to hit out, yell, make her come to her senses, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything at all.

“Fine,” he answered and walked to his room, slamming the door.

Even if it hurt him.

He wanted to ignore her, pretend she didn’t exist, let the anger cool. But goddamn—

Tessa was his roommate.

Goddamn.

THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON was a milder form of hell for Tessa. She spent the afternoon locked in her room. Not that locks were necessary—Gabe wasn’t coming anywhere near her. Her feminine intuition told her that truth. Her feminine intuition, along with the raging chaos in Gabe’s eyes.

He left for the bar around two, slamming the door behind him, probably being polite and letting her know he was leaving.

Tessa immediately burst into tears.

And this from two people who weren’t, as a rule, emotional.

Okay, this hadn’t gone as she’d planned. Tessa had thought she could be mature and able to handle the ending of a relationship—using the term relationship loosely—without feeling as if the floor had been pulled out from underneath her.

Sadly Gabe was the foundation she’d built the last four years on, and now she knew that foundation was gone.

And where had that come from? For four years she’d worked her butt off to get her own place in New York. And now it was right within her grasp, but her priorities were getting all whacked. All because of sex with Gabe. Tessa wanted Gabe, but she wanted to have things the way they were—but she knew there was no going back. She’d known that from the first time he’d kissed her when that lightning bolt of awareness shot through her and made her open her eyes to feelings she had never wanted to admit. She depended on Gabe too much. He was her boss, her roommate and, most of all, her friend. But seeing a guy naked complicated things, and aching to have him inside you killed all that friendship stuff in a heartbeat.

Tessa sniffed away the last of her tears. Tears were for losers, and Tessa wasn’t a loser. She was a survivor and she could get through this, as well.

She showered and dressed for work, not thinking about the big hole in her chest. All she needed to do was pull on her big-girl panties because right now she had a job to do.

At the bar, the regulars were lined up in front of Gabe, exactly as if everything were normal.

Tessa pasted her usual smile on her face because, yes, this was normal. Completely normal. She didn’t need to feel as if she’d been doused over the head with a bucket of ice.

Gabe flashed her a smile, not really so normal, more like “mad as hell, but we’ll pretend,” and Tessa looked down, concentrating on cutting lemons.

Thankfully the weather outside was sunny and fabulous, and so the crowds started pouring in early, which didn’t give her much time to dwell on her own misery. In fact, after a few hours, things did start to seem normal. When the tap went dry, Gabe was there to tap the new one for her. When a very forward slut-puppy began hitting on Gabe, Tessa sent Lindy over to rescue him by pretending to be his girlfriend. When Sean took an extended break with some redhead, Tessa filled in smoothly, covering two of the three bars without a misstep. It wasn’t the Paris Peace Accord, but it wasn’t World War III either. When Sean returned to the bar, slightly out of breath and flushed, Gabe didn’t even seem to mind.

Tessa had made it past depressed and was halfway to optimistic when Marisa breezed in, a vision in bright blue silk, turning all male heads in her path.

Except for Gabe’s.

Marisa shouldered through to find a seat in front of Tessa.

“How’s it going?”

“Busy,” answered Tessa, which she hoped would prevent long, extended Gabe-filled conversations.

“Were you able to talk to him? Should I go introduce myself? Do you think this dress is okay? Not too trashy? I wanted sexy but classy. This is sexy but classy, don’t you think?”

Tessa stared, unable to reconcile this babbling sinkhole of female insecurities with confident, self-assured Marisa. However, it did make her feel more comfortable with her own lack of confidence when it came to Gabe. Did he affect all women this way? Probably.

Tessa smiled at Marisa, somewhat vindicated. “You look great. Don’t worry. I started laying the groundwork for you, but let me go over and say a few more things, and then you sit at his bar for a while. Oh, and one thing—I didn’t tell him about the apartment at Hudson Towers. He never liked the place, and I don’t want to say anything. Let’s keep that part just between us. Okay?”

Marisa nodded. “Sure. You’ll talk to him now?”

Tessa nodded and wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her rag. She could do this. She could definitely do this. She tightened her smile, took a deep breath and went to see Gabe.

He was pouring a pitcher of beer and he looked up, surprised to see her.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Tessa nodded. “You remember me talking to you about Marisa, the Realtor who’s getting me into school?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her, confused.

Not that she could blame him. She knew everything that was going on and she still felt confused. “I think you should talk to her. Get to know her. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Leave it alone, Tessa. I’m not feeling friendly.” He sloshed the pitcher on the bar, which was a testament to how unfriendly he was currently feeling. Gabe didn’t slosh. Ever.

Tessa flashed Marisa a reassuring smile and turned back to Gabe.

“She’s very pretty. And she’s nice, too.”

“What is with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, licking suddenly dry lips.

“You’re hell-bent on setting me up with her, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I like her and I like you, and I think you two would get along well,” replied Tessa. She wasn’t the world’s greatest actress, but man, she should really get an award for this…assuming she could walk away from Gabe without bursting into tears—again.

Gabe wasn’t buying it, wasn’t even close to buying it, but at least he had stopped asking why.

“Send her over. I’ll make sure she has a great time,” he snapped, which sounded more like a threat.

Tessa walked away because, yes, she was going to fall apart here, and there were over one hundred thirsty customers and they all needed her.

She squared her shoulders, tightened her stomach and swore to herself that as soon as she was alone she could fall apart. But not until then.

Tessa was getting stronger.

GABE FELT AS IF HE had walked onto the set of some fictional drama and he had no idea who was who and what his lines were supposed to be. All he knew was that Tessa was pretty damn insistent that he hook up with Miss Marisa What’s-her-name, irrespective of whether Gabe wanted the woman or not. The Realtor looked polished, confident, a Manhattan barracuda with teeth. Completely not his type. He liked his women…