Bulletproof Bride - By Diana Duncan Page 0,54

and tried to push you into making love to me for all the wrong reasons. Thank you for stopping."

His glance roamed over the wet, warm, and willing woman only a hand's reach away. Two years ago, the president had pinned a Congressional Medal of Honor on his uniform for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, in a war-torn hell half a world away. Gabe hadn't felt as if he'd deserved the honor then. But he'd accept ten medals for what he'd managed two minutes ago.

"You handled a tough situation today with guts and class. You can be proud of yourself." He cupped her chin in his hand. "You deserve a man who recognizes how special you are. And who will put you first in his life. You deserve the best."

She smiled up at him. "You are a nice guy."

He managed a laugh, but it rang hollow. If only she knew. "Don't bet your life on it, honey. Or your virtue."

Her smile broadened. "I just did."

A very long, very cold shower and another aching, sleepless night loomed in his immediate future.

That's what he got for pretending to be a nice guy.

* * *

Chapter 12

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As they climbed into the Pinto to drive to work the next morning, Tessa avoided looking Gabe in the eye. The way she'd thrown herself at him in the hot tub last night… She groaned.

Her cheeks heated at the memory of Gabe's impressive arousal pulsing under her palm. Dale had always been physically restrained, in fact so had she. Now she knew the lack of fire was because they shared nothing more than friendship. Tessa frowned. Then why did she have such an explosive response to Gabe? She'd always believed her heart would have to be involved for her body to respond.

Horror prickled over her skin. Did that mean she cared for him? She knew men were different; they could react merely to the female body. Maybe women and men were more alike than she'd realized. Maybe the chemistry between her and Gabe was merely lust.

She prayed it was only lust. Because if she thought her dreams were smashed to pieces now, falling in love with Gabe would blow her life to smithereens. She'd hand him her heart and he'd retreat, leaving her with an empty, bleeding hole in her chest.

"Music?" Gabe's question interrupted her gloomy thoughts.

She opened his CD case and pulled out a double volume. "Hey! Elvis wasn't here before."

"I bought it yesterday when you were trying on the dress." He grinned. "I noticed you have a fondness for The King."

Warmed by his thoughtfulness, she slipped the CD into the player and Elvis's smooth, deep voice flowed out like warm honey.

"You a fan of that pelvis action?"

"That's not why I like him," she huffed.

"Enlighten me."

Why not? It was better than sitting here worrying. "I've loved music all my life. My first memory is sitting on my dad's lap while he pounded out Elvis tunes on his beat-up, secondhand piano." She smiled as warm memories blanketed her. "He'd explain the keys and the notes. The very first song Dad taught me to play was 'Love Me Tender.' I was four."

He whistled. "You could play that young?"

"I have a gift called perfect pitch. I can hear a song and duplicate it." She uttered a hollow laugh. "My ability drove my mother crazy. She always wanted musical talent in order to boost her acting career, but she has a tin ear."

"Your mom's an actress? Would I know her?"

"You watch the soaps? Vivienne has been on Light Of The World for fifteen years." She shrugged. "You're probably more familiar with my brother, Jules Martin."

His brows rose a fraction. "The Wimbledon champion three years running? That Jules Martin?"

"That's the one. He and Vivienne use professional names. I kept Dad's."

"I take it you're not close to your family."

"She sent me to boarding school when I was six, after the near-drowning. I saw her once a year on parents' day, with a publicity photographer in tow. When the photographs appeared I'd always been replaced by a child model. Vivienne said it was to protect me. But—" She shook her head. "Never mind."

He glanced at her, his expression tender. "No, tell me."

Maybe the cold, hard truth would jolt them back to reality and stop this ridiculous attraction simmering between them. "I was a terribly ugly child. If my wide mouth and odd-colored eyes weren't bad enough, I wore railroad track braces. Once

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