BULLETPROOF BRIDE (22 page)

He trusted her far more than he wanted to admit. Far more than he felt comfortable with. Far more than he'd ever trusted anyone.

Enough to threaten his safety.

That trust made him vulnerable, and he couldn't afford the resulting pain. "In my line of work, one small detail can mean the difference between living
or
dying." He slammed on the brakes and wrenched the car to the curb, then twisted to face her. Dry-eyed, she turned back to stare at him.

He heaved a sigh of relief.
No tears
. "You're intelligent and talented and one hell of a terrific lady. I knew in my gut from minute one you were on the up-and-up. But our relationship is business. And that's
all
."

Mute and blank-faced, she stared at him, and he soldiered on. "Yeah, we've got intense sexual heat zinging between us, but nothing will come of it. I'm not the kind of man you deserve. So we'll solve the case, lock up the bad guys and then go our separate ways."

He gentled his voice. "Tessie, do you understand?"

She regarded him with a thoughtful, speculative gaze. "I believe I do."

Instead of bringing relief, her quiet agreement intensified his discomfort. Maybe she understood way more than he wanted her to. He looked away from her discerning topaz eyes, ground the gears on the Pinto, and pulled back out into traffic. "Where do we get you some sexy duds?"

"That depends. This is case related, so is Uncle Sammy picking up the bill?"

At her jaunty tone, his unease evaporated and he grinned in relief. "As long as I get to choose."

"Sorry, red spandex minis aren't my style."

A picture of her in that exact garment sprang to mind and thick, hot blood flooded his groin. His hands clenched on the wheel. Ruthlessly, he squelched his desire. "Spoilsport."

She smiled. "I know how you feel about shopping."

"Don't
worry,
there won't be a wedding dress in sight. Sexy is right up my alley. And I'm going to replace the dress and shoes you wore into the hot tub last night."

Gabe shifted gears and the car roared past a blue minivan. Tessa studied his set jaw and white-knuckled grip on the wheel. His words were casual, but his body language told a whole different tale. Her intuition rang off the scale. He'd spouted a sincere speech loaded with common sense, but the man was on the run. Underneath the swashbuckling attitude and lightning-bolt smiles, he was scared.

Of her.

Now she needed to figure out why.

And what she was going to do about it.

Chapter 13

«
^
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T
hey arrived at the Blue Moon at ten the next morning so Tessa could rehearse. Gabe sat at a table in the back, reading a folder of papers. Every so often, she'd catch him staring at her, wary bewilderment clouding his eyes. When he caught her looking, he'd drop his gaze. What was that all about?

Right after her short lunch break, he approached the stage. "The liquor delivery just arrived," he murmured. "While
Drumm
checks the shipment, I'll search his office. Keep your eyes open, and if he heads that way, stall him."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

He grinned. "I have faith in you. You'll think of something." He sauntered through the doorway to the hall. The delicious sight of his perfect behind cupped by well-loved denims almost banished the anxiety his words had caused. Almost.

Four songs later, she cast an anxious glance at the clock, and then the empty club. How much longer would he be gone?

The door opened, and she whirled in relief. But instead of Gabe, Leo entered, carrying a large carton labeled
Dewars
. Bottles rattled inside the box as he lumbered across the room.

Vic, a huge burly man with a buzz cut, stuck his head in the door and called, "Boss, Vinnie says it'll be twelve grand."

Leo stopped
midmotion
. "It was only ten last Tuesday."

Vic's big square head disappeared for a few seconds,
then
reappeared again. "He says you're
dreamin
'. It was twelve."

"Damn it, I've got the invoice in my office. I'll shove it up his skinny ferret—" Leo shifted the box and bottles rattled again. "I'll be right there."

Oh, no! Leo was going to his office! She flicked another desperate glance at the doorway. No sign of Gabe. She gulped. Leo passed the stage, and she hesitantly called out, "Mr.
Drumm
?"

He halted, turning to glare at her with cold gray eyes.

"Uh, would you mind taking a look at the song lineup?"

He stared at her, then at the box in his hands before looking at her again. "You blind, deaf or both?"

"But it will only take a minute, and I really—"

"You artsy types are
a such
pain in the ass. Figure it out yourself." He plodded toward the bar.

In a minute, he'd reach the bar, put away the box and go after the invoice, possibly catching Gabe in the act. Should she jump down and bodily stop him? She stumbled forward, almost tripping over a cordless microphone lying at her feet.

Drastic situations called for drastic measures.

Coughing to disguise the noise, she nudged the
mic
with her shoe, and it rolled off the stage, landing in front of Leo.

His vision blocked by the box, he stepped right on it. The cylinder spun, increasing his momentum, and his feet scrabbled for traction before flying out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud. The box flew up,
then
crashed to the floor. Pungent, amber whiskey flooded the shiny oak surface. The sound of smashing glass echoed around the room. Then heavy silence descended.

If she weren't so scared, she would have chuckled at the stunned disbelief on his face.

He clambered to his feet. Shook off his pants. Shuffling to the microphone, he stared down at it. Slowly, he looked up, directly at her.

"Oops," she offered quietly. "How did that get there?"

"Oops?" he repeated. "Oops? Six hundred bucks' worth of Scotch is eating the varnish off my five-thousand-dollar dance floor, and all you can say is 'oops'?" he roared. His upper lip curled. "I'd fire you, but it'll take you months to pay me off." He stabbed his finger at the rapidly spreading mess. "Get down here and clean this up, you stupid bitch," he bellowed.
"Now!"

Her heart pounding, she started for the steps.

"Hold it," Gabe snapped from behind her.

She whirled. He strode through the doorway toward
Drumm
wearing an expression she'd never seen on him before. Cold fury turned his face to stone.

Stopping inches from Leo, he spoke so low she could barely hear. "I'm her manager." His carefully measured tone made the soft admonition sound deadly. "If you've got a problem, talk to me." He leaned closer, until the men were nose-to-nose. "And if you ever yell at her like that again, or call her anything other than Miss
Aron
, I'll take you apart."

Drumm
bristled and curled his fists, ready to do battle. Something in Gabe's eyes stopped him, because after a wary glance, Leo stepped back. "I don't need this," he growled. "If not for the dough she owes me, you'd both be
outta
here."

"Go about your business." Menace edged Gabe's silky voice. "I'll see that this is cleaned up and you get everything coming to you."

Drumm
muttered under his breath, but he turned and stormed toward his office.

Gabe looked up at her. His iron features relaxed into the man she knew. He sauntered to the stage and held up his hands. She let him lift her to the floor. He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "You okay?"

Aside from Mel, nobody had ever stood up for her before. She kind of liked having a champion.
Don't get too used to it
. Her knight in tarnished armor wasn't sticking around. Suddenly shaky, she nodded. "I'm fine."

He cupped her cheek. "Great job, sweetheart." His sensual lips curved into a grin. "But I said stall him, not kill him."

His impish humor banished her distress. She grinned back. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gabe's shoulders shook. "Man, his legs churned like Wile E. Coyote going over a cliff."

Only Gabe could turn an ugly confrontation into something humorous. Giggles bubbled into her throat and she swallowed. "Don't start. If Leo catches us laughing, he'll have a fit."

"You're absolutely right.
Mmeep
,
mmeep
," he intoned in a perfect imitation of The Road Runner.

She bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to squelch her laughter. "Stop it. He could have been hurt, you know."

"Yeah, he'll probably have to sit on an ice pack for a week." He laughed. "Not to mention being marinated in Scotch until he's going to have to fight off every lush in the county. When he's not too busy picking glass out of his—"

"Gabe," she groaned, holding her stomach.

"Okay, okay, I'll behave."

"That'll be that day." But she didn't really want him to change. She liked him just the way he was, naughty, irrepressible and brimming with mischief.

He gave her a gentle push. "Go on. I've got a mess here."

"I'll help you."

"Nope, there's broken glass all over. Go sing."

As she turned away, he grasped her arm. "Remind me later to show you what I found in Leo's office."

Whatever he'd found, she hoped it was worth infuriating Leo. She practiced her set, and Gabe mopped up the Scotch and glass before returning to his table.

Tessa finished rehearsing, and rearranged her sheet music. The tap of high heels on the wood floor made her glance up.

The beautiful blond hostess slinked into a chair next to Gabe. Her man-killer body was poured into a turquoise spandex dress that barely covered her … assets. And those assets certainly didn't have a deficit. Her portfolio was designed to accrue Gabe's interest. The blonde touched his arm, leaned closer so her ample breasts brushed his chest and whispered in his ear. He threw back his head and laughed. Blondie responded by cuddling closer.

Hot jealousy arrowed through Tessa's chest. Breathing hurt. She turned away to stuff sheet music into a folder. No reason to feel upset. She didn't have a claim on the vermin.

Gripping the folder so hard it was a miracle the paper didn't disintegrate, she stomped down the hall to her dressing room. She slammed the door, wrenched the bolt home. The physical release felt good. She was tired of behaving like a lady. What had being a lady gotten her? A safe, flawless, humdrum life.

She dropped into a chair in front of her dressing table and shoved aside a jar of cold cream. Her palm itched with the temptation to fling it at the wall. Instead, she slapped the music down on the table's black veneer surface. Not nearly as satisfying, but one couldn't change lifetime habits overnight.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Bond, Gabe Bond."

Her fingers flexed in a stranglehold. "Mr. Bond doesn't politely knock. He barges in like an oversexed gorilla."

His chuckle echoed through the door. "I'm good, but even I can't get through a locked door."

"I've seen you. Use one of your picks."

He chuckled again. "Picks don't work on bolts. But I
could
kick in the door, if that particular fantasy rings your chimes."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" She stalked across the room, flung back the bolt, and yanked open the door. "It's probably number three on your list of titillating fun."

His brows furrowed. "I was teasing. What's eating you?"

You were canoodling with a bimbo, you cretin
. She couldn't say that. Her fragile composure snapped. "Just how much is one woman supposed to take? I've had it! I've been robbed and kidnapped. Twice! A marriage I've been counting on for two years just went down the toilet. I'm risking my career by stealing files from my boss and playing hooky as a nightclub singer, only to get bellowed at and cussed out by some lowlife while saving your fanny! My life is in ruins!"

Her voice rose. "And if that weren't enough, I'm joined at the hip with the most irritating man I've ever known," she was yelling now, "and I'd like to wring his grinning, adrenaline-loving neck!"

"No need to shout," he said mildly. I can hear you fine."

"I never shout," she hollered. "Shouting is not dignified! Shouting is not necessary! Shouting is bad for your blood pressure!"

His mouth kicked up at the corners. "But it sure feels good, doesn't it?"

Her temperature shot up ten degrees. "Don't you dare laugh at me, you
rodent!
This is
all your
fault! My life was perfect until you showed up!"

"I'm not laughing." His expression carefully blank, he innocently widened his eyes. But amusement shimmered in the jeweled green depths. "Perfect, was it?"

"I really don't like you," she gritted.

His lips twitched and he pressed them together. "You've mentioned that. I told you, I don't blame you."