“Hey,” I said again, hugging him back. “What’s the matter? Are you upset about the video?”
“I hate the video,” he said bluntly. “I should’ve screened the damn thing when I realized the song was about you.”
“I’m sorry.”
He pulled back and looked down at me. The mist from the shower was slowly dampening his hair. He was infinitely sexier than Brett. And the way he felt about me—and I felt about him in return—was infinitely deeper. “Corinne called right before the video finished. She was … hysterical. Out of control. It concerned me and I went to see her.”
I took a deep breath, fighting off a flare of jealousy. I had no right to feel that way, especially after the time I’d spent with Brett. “How did that go?”
He urged my head back with gentle fingers. “Close your eyes.”
“Talk to me, Gideon.”
“I will.” As he rinsed the suds from my hair, he said, “I think I figured out what the problem is. She’s been taking antidepressants and they’re not the right prescription for her.”
“Oh, wow.”
“She was supposed to let the doctor know how they were working out, but she didn’t even realize she’s been acting so bizarre. It took hours of talking to her to get her to see it, and then pinpoint why.”
I straightened and wiped my eyes, trying to stem my growing irritation over another woman monopolizing my man’s attention. I couldn’t discount her making up a problem just to keep Gideon spending time with her.
He swapped places with me, sidestepping under the shower spray. Water coursed down his amazing body, running lovingly over the hard ridges and slabs of muscle.
“So what now?” I asked.
He shrugged grimly. “She’ll see her doctor tomorrow to discuss getting off the pills or switching to something else.”
“Are you supposed to walk her through that?” I complained.
“She’s not my responsibility.” His gaze held mine, telling me without words that he understood my fear and worry and anger. Just as he’d always understood me. “I told her as much. Then I called Giroux and told him, too. He needs to come take care of his wife.”
He reached for his shampoo, which rested on a glass shelf with the rest of his personal shower items. He’d moved his stuff into my place pretty much the minute I agreed to date him, just as he had stocked his place with duplicates of my everyday items.
“She was provoked, though, Eva. Deanna visited her earlier tonight with pictures she took of you and me at the video launch.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered. “That explains why Deanna was here waiting to ambush me.”
“Was she really?” he purred dangerously, making me pity Deanna—for about half a second. She was digging herself a nice grave.
“She probably got shots of you showing up at Corinne’s place and wanted to rile me.” I crossed my arms. “She’s stalking you.”
Gideon tipped his head back into the water to rinse, his biceps flexing as he ran his fingers through his hair.
He was so flagrantly, sexually, beautifully male.
I licked my lips, aroused by the sight of him despite my irritation with his exes. I closed the distance between us and squeezed some of his body wash into my palm. Then I ran my hands over his chest.
Groaning, he looked down at me. “I love your hands on me.”
“That’s good, since I can’t keep my hands off you.”
He touched my cheek, his eyes soft. He searched my face, maybe gauging whether I was wearing the fuck-me look or not. I didn’t think I was. I wanted him, that never stopped, but I also wanted to enjoy just being with him. That was hard when he was blowing my mind.
“I needed this,” he said. “Being with you.”
“It seems like so much is coming at us, doesn’t it? We can’t catch a break. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” My fingertips traced the hard ridges of his abdomen. Desire hummed between us, and that wonderful sense of being near someone who was precious and necessary. “But we’re doing okay, aren’t we?”
His lips touched my forehead. “We’re hanging in pretty good, I’d say. But I can’t wait to take you away tomorrow. Get out of here for a while, away from everyone, and just have you all to myself.”
I smiled, delighted by the thought. “I can’t wait, either.”
I woke when Gideon slipped out of my bed.
Blinking, I noted that the television was still on, though muted. I’d fallen asleep curled up with him, enjoying our time alone together after all the hours and days we’d been forced to spend apart.
“Where are you going?” I whispered.
“To bed.” He touched my cheek. “I’m crashing hard.”
“Don’t go.”
“Don’t ask me to stay.”
I sighed, understanding his fear. “I love you.”
Bending over me, Gideon pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t forget to put your passport in your purse.”
“I won’t forget. Are you sure I shouldn’t pack something?”
“Nothing.” He kissed me again, his lips clinging to mine.
Then he was gone.
I wore a light jersey wrap dress to work on Friday, something that could go from work to a long flight easily. I had no idea how far Gideon was taking me, but knew I’d be comfortable no matter what.
When I got to work, I found Megumi on the phone, so we waved at each other and I headed straight to my cubicle. Ms. Field stopped by just as I settled into my chair.
The executive chairman of Waters Field & Leaman looked powerful and confident in a soft gray pantsuit.
“Good morning, Eva,” she said. “Have Mark stop by my office when he gets in.”
I nodded, admiring her triple-strand black pearl necklace. “Will do.”
When I passed along the request to Mark five minutes later, he shook his head. “Betcha we didn’t get the Adrianna Vineyards account.”
“You think?”
“I hate those damned cattle-call RFPs. They’re not looking for quality and experience. They just want someone who’s hungry enough to give their services away.”
We’d dropped everything to meet the deadline for the request for proposal, which had been given to Mark to spearhead because he’d done such an amazing job with the Kingsman Vodka account.
“Their loss,” I told him.
“I know, but still … I want to win ’em all. Wish me luck that I’m wrong.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and he headed to Christine Field’s office. My desk phone rang as I was pushing to my feet to grab a cup of coffee from the break room.
“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered, “Eva Tramell speaking.”
“Eva, honey.”
I exhaled at the sound of my mother’s watery voice. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Will you see me? Maybe we could have lunch?”
“Sure. Today?”
“If you could.” She took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I really need to see you.”
“Okay.” My stomach knotted with concern. I hated hearing my mother so upset. “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”