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!"