Dale was kissing her back, but his posture was ramrod-straight. He didn't appear at all comfortable with the intimacy.
Very interesting reaction.
Tessa pulled back and stared up at her fiancé. Even from where he crouched, Gabe could see her pain and confusion. Though he didn't want the other man to desire her, at the same time he wanted to smash Dale's face in for hurting her. Torn by his battling emotions, he gripped the plant harder, struggling to regain his equilibrium.
"Dale, do you," Tessa asked in a shaky voice. "Find me … desirable?"
Gabe held his breath, waiting for the answer.
Dale's Adam's apple jerked convulsively. "Of course I do, but this really isn't a good time or place—"
"It's never the time or place." Tessa jumped up and paced in front of the fountain. "I know I'm not exactly a femme fatale, but you did ask me to be your wife. You must be attracted to me, and yet you've never—we've never—"
Dale stood. Gently, he turned her to face him. "When the time comes, I promise I'll be everything you need in a husband. You'll never want for anything." He enveloped her in a chaste hug. "We should get back inside and join your co-workers."
She huffed out a sigh and nodded. Dale led her back into the ballroom.
So, they weren't lovers. That was the most interesting of all. What was wrong with the Gomer? If Tessa were his woman, Gabe would never let her out of his arms.
His heart thundered painfully against his ribs. She wasn't his, and never would be. His temples echoed the pounding of his heart as they throbbed in a clamoring duet. Good thing he'd taken those aspirin. Too bad they didn't do anything to ease the empty, burning ache in his chest.
Tessa rolled over in bed, hugging the pillow. A bleary glance at the clock showed nearly 3:00 a.m. Her second sleepless night in a row. Both times over men. Last night, she'd worried about her passionate response to Gabe. Now she lay here fretting about Dale's lack of response to her. And hers to him. She'd felt nothing when she'd kissed him. Maybe she was one of those people who didn't feel strong emotions. She never had.
But that wasn't entirely true. Because lately, she'd experienced plenty of incredible feelings.
With Gabe.
Since they'd met, she'd run the gamut from terror to exhilaration. She'd never felt more vital and alive.
She sat up, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. This useless train of thought had to be derailed. Now. Dale was a good man. She cared about him, and he cared about her. They'd be happy together. And she would have the stability she'd always dreamed of. Tessa swallowed, her dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She desperately needed a drink of water.
She belted her sapphire blue robe over her matching silk nightshirt. In the dark, she tiptoed to the bathroom and fumbled for the stack of paper cups beside the sink. The first cool sip slid down her parched throat, bringing instant relief, and she gulped the rest.
A moan caught her attention. She cocked her head, listening in the blackness. Gabe? She sprinted down the hall.
"No!" he cried out.
She swung open the door. Moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the center of the room, where Gabe thrashed on the bed.
"Please. Please, no," he begged. "Don't."
She hurried to his side, and bent over the writhing man. "Gabe?" Her fingertips touched his warm cheek.
His strong hands grabbed her upper arms. The room spun as she whirled through space. In an instant, she was thrown on her back onto the mattress. His hard weight pressed her body down, held her immobile. His hand clamped over her mouth. His forearm squeezed her throat.
Panic screamed through her. Her vision darkened around the edges as she struggled to breathe. She kicked and squirmed, clawing at the steely arm across her throat, her muffled cries smothered to tiny squeaks.
Suddenly Gabe jerked. His loud gasp echoed in the silent room. "Tessa?" He snatched his hands away. "Oh, God," his sleep-roughened voice rasped into her ear. "Are you all right?"
Trembling all over, she gulped in huge draughts of air.
"Talk to me, honey." His shaking hands cradled her face, soothing, stroking. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
She swallowed. "I'm fine. You were having a nightmare—"
"Yeah." He was shaking so hard the bed vibrated beneath them. "That happens." He buried his face in her neck.