Can't Help Falling In Love Part 16

Megan pulled the basket of clothes closer to her, as if they could protect her from whatever his intentions were. "She is. I just got off the phone with her. She met Mickey and Goofy at breakfast this morning. I usually go with them, but I had to work so I couldn't."

Gabe continued to grin at her as the pulse in her neck continued to rock and roll. "You're nervous about seeing me again."

She shook her head too fast. Too hard. "I'm surprised." But she didn't meet his eyes as she said it.

"Surprise."

Her eyes flew to his and he could have sworn she shivered at the husky tone of his voice. But then, a moment later, he watched her still herself and pull her shoulders back.

"We talked about this. In Lake Tahoe."

"No," he reminded her. "We didn't discuss anything at all."

"Fine," she said in a short voice. "We can discuss it now. And then you can go."

He was surprised-but not in a bad way-when she stepped fully into the hall, slammed her door shut behind her, and stalked to the stairs. He followed her down to the bas.e.m.e.nt, admiring the angry sway of her hips as she shoved her shoulder against the laundry-room door and let it swing back in his face.

It was tempting to laugh, but he was afraid she'd take it the wrong way. He appreciated her spark, knowing he would never be happy with a submissive partner. He'd take her facing off against him a hundred times over having her shrink into his arms as if he alone were responsible for the sun shining.

She yanked open the washing machine, shoved the clothes in, poured half a bottle of detergent over them, then pushed in her quarters. When the machine started to-loudly-crank to life, she turned to him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Go ahead. Discuss away."

"You're beautiful, Megan."

Her eyes widened with pleasure at his compliment for a split second before she tamped it down. "I've got work to do."

She went to move past him and Gabe decided he had no choice but to reach for her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. "Give me a chance."

She was stiff against him, but she didn't pull away. "I can't. And you know why."

"No," he told her softly, "I don't." Before she could protest, he said, "You know about my past. I want to know about yours, Megan."

He could see by the stubborn set of her mouth that she wasn't happy about being cornered like this, that she didn't think he was playing fair.

But if there was one thing Gabe knew for sure, it was that playing fair never got a firefighter where he wanted to be. But while he wasn't asking her to welcome him in with open arms-not yet, at least-erasing never would be a good start.

She yanked her hand away from his. "Fine. I'll tell you what you're clearly dying to know. But not in the laundry room." She took a step back. "After you."

He grinned, knowing she must have figured out how good the view had been on their trip downstairs. Little did she know that her sa.s.sy att.i.tude turned him on just as much.

He waited for her to let them into her apartment. Just as he had the first time he'd been there, Gabe immediately felt comfortable in her s.p.a.ce.

After all but slamming the door, she sat down hard on the nearest seat. "What do you want to know?"

"How was your week?"

"Fine." A core of politeness she couldn't curb was clearly what made her ask, "Yours?"

"The snow wasn't the same without you and Summer."

Her mouth softened before she could stop it. A moment later, she was sitting back against the seat and rubbing a hand across her eyes. For a split second, Gabe felt guilty about having barged back into her life like this. She looked tired, like she hadn't been sleeping well.

Neither had he...not since the night she'd slept in his arms.

"Tell me how your husband died, Megan."

"I already have. His plane crashed."

But just as she'd sensed there was more to his story than he'd been telling her, he knew in his gut that she was holding something back. She got up off the couch, her strong shoulders sloping inward. In that moment, even though he'd promised himself he'd go slow, Gabe couldn't stop himself from moving to her, from wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head beneath his chin.

"It's okay, Megan."

She whispered something against his bicep and as his insides went up in smoke at the feel of her mouth against his skin, he couldn't make out her words for the life of him.

Slowly, he spun her around in his arms and he was surprised by the anger in her eyes.

"No, it isn't okay. He wasn't fighting for our country. He wasn't training for a mission. He was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around at the local airfield, taking out a private plane for a joyride in the middle of the night."

Her body was rigid against him and it was pure instinct to rub his hand down her spine.

"They told me his instruments failed and it was too dark for him to land." Her eyes were dark, and still angry, as she said, "Everyone thought he was such a hero and I was just so d.a.m.n angry at him for being so stupid."

Not stopping the slow stroke of his hand over her back, vibrating beneath his palm, he agreed, "It was stupid."

His words seemed to bring her back to him, to the realization that she was standing in his arms. She worked to move away from him and he made himself let her go.

"I've never told anyone that."

"Thank you for telling me."

She looked momentarily lost for words...like all the anger had been wrung out of her. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Some of it."

She looked confused. "What else?"

"What do you eat for breakfast?"

Her frown was one of surprise, this time, rather than frustration. "Raisin bread. Toasted."

Gabe filed that data away for one day down the road when, hopefully, he'd get the chance to feed her breakfast. "Do you like to hike?"

"Yes. But not hills."

He grinned at the San Francisco girl who didn't like hills. "What about biking?"

"Not much. I'd rather be on foot, or in a boat."

"Do you have siblings?"

Her frown had been replaced by a bemused expression. "No."

"Where did you grow up?"

"A little town just outside of Minneapolis. My parents still live there. They're always trying to get me to move back."

Everything in Gabe rebelled against the idea of losing Megan to a Midwestern town. "You belong here."

She looked faintly irritated at his tone, but she agreed. "That's what I'm always telling them."

"Do you get along with your folks?"

"Yes." She scrunched up her nose. "Except when I don't."

He had to laugh at her honest response. No woman had ever pleased him this much, both in and out of bed.

Her mouth twitched at the corners and he watched her war with herself for a moment before shaking her head as if she were disappointed with herself. "Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

Something inside Gabe's chest unclenched at her offer. She hadn't agreed to anything yet, but she wasn't kicking him out, either.

"Always," he replied.

The twitching turned into a full-on smile. "Why am I not surprised?"

Did she realize she was flirting with him? He hoped not, otherwise she was bound to make herself stop.

"Without Summer here I haven't bothered to go shopping, so there isn't much."

She was just opening the fridge when he said, "How about I go move your clothes into the dryer while you rustle up something to eat?"

"No," she said quickly, her flush giving away the train of her thoughts, making both of them think about those pink panties again. "I'll run and do it. You just sit tight and I'll be right back."

Each of the guys at the station took a meal shift when they were on duty, so although Gabe might not have been the neatest guy in the kitchen, he knew his way around a good handful of meals.

A short while later, he had the makings of a pretty great omelet on the counter. He was just pouring the eggs into the hot skillet when Megan came back inside.

"Gabe?" She looked stunned to see him behind the stove. "You didn't have to cook."

He slid the gla.s.s of juice he'd poured over to her. "I enjoy it. Sit." He looked over at her desk in the corner of her small living room, covered with papers and a couple of big, fancy calculators. "Looks like you've been working hard."

She nodded, looking tired again. "Still playing catch-up with a couple of my clients. Fortunately, I'm just about there."

"Good," he said, holding back the rest of what he'd come here to say.

Timing was everything.

He slid the omelet from the skillet onto a plate, b.u.t.tered the raisin bread that had just popped up from the toaster, grabbed two forks from the top drawer, and moved over to the tiny breakfast bar to join her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I can't remember the last time someone besides Summer cooked for me."

"Her m.u.f.fins are great."

"They are," she agreed, "but now I'm wondering if I should teach her how to make omelets, instead." She looked up at him with an even bigger smile. "The raisin bread is great, too."

Somehow he managed to stop staring at the beautiful woman next to him and push his fork into the eggs. She followed suit and just as he was finishing his first bite, she made one of those soft little sounds that made him immediately hard.

"OhmyG.o.d," she moaned in one long syllable, "this is so good."

Amazingly, praise from her over something as small as eggs and toast made him feel as good as if he'd singlehandedly put out a five-alarm fire.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, and then while he held her captive with his cooking prowess, he decided the timing was finally right. "Got any plans for New Year's Eve?"

She seemed startled for a moment. "Wow, how'd it get to be December 31 already?"

Smiling at her, he said, "I'll take that as a no."

"Yes," she said, and then, "No. I haven't made any plans." Her eyes widened as she realized where he was going with his question. "You're not suggesting that you-" She pointed at him. "-and I-" And then at herself. "-spend it together?"

"Hey, that's a great idea."

"No, it's a terrible idea."

"Do you like fireworks?"

"That's irrelevant."

"You do, don't you?" he said with a grin. "I'll bet you love them, the bigger the better." The way her skin flushed in response was answer enough. "Watch them with me tonight on my roof."

He could feel how tempted she was by his suggestion, but then she said, "I shouldn't."

But both of them knew shouldn't was a h.e.l.l of a long way from couldn't.

"But you want to, don't you?"

That gorgeous exasperated look reappeared on her face. "Of course I want to!"

He didn't bother to hold back his grin at that admission. "What if I promise not to kiss you until next year?"

The heat between them flared into full-on flames.

"Nice try," she said. "Next year is only a few hours away."

"I'd have to break my promise if it were anything longer than that." He reached for a tendril of hair that had fallen across her cheek. "And I don't ever want to break a promise to you, Megan."