all your nonsense, and nothing has happened. I deserve one concession."
He sighed. "All right. But only for a short visit. And I'll have to check it out first." He drilled her with a hard stare. "No funny business. Meet me in the living room in ten minutes." He strode to the dresser on the far wall.
She paused at the threshold, turned back. "Gabe?"
Holding a pair of white athletic socks, he looked around. "Yeah?"
"Remember, paybacks are hell. And now I owe you one. A great big one." She quietly closed the door.
His shout of laughter rang down the hall.
She changed into brown tweed slacks and a taupe sweater before heading out to the living room.
Gabe was waiting by the door, holding a manila folder. He shrugged on a black leather jacket. As they walked to the Corvette, he limped, groaning theatrically.
She knew a play for sympathy when she saw one. "Don't think you can manhandle me and get away with it."
"I'll never tap dance again. You don't fight fair, Houdini." His sensual lips curled into a teasing smile. "I like that in a woman."
She'd stomped his foot, kicked him in the shin, slugged him with her briefcase, and kneed him in the stomach, yet he stood here smiling and joking. Amazed and chagrined, she bit her lip. "I'm sorry about getting physical with you. I guess I reached the last of my rope and slid right off the frayed end."
"You can get physical with me anytime." His smile widened into a grin as he offered her his car keys. "You seemed pretty anxious to drive this baby. Speed is a great stress reliever."
Would this man ever stop surprising her? She accepted the keys with a delighted smile. "I've never driven a stick shift."
"How did you plan to drive it to the office?"
She shrugged. "How hard can it be?"
He rolled his eyes before climbing into the passenger seat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's going to be a bumpy ride."
She managed to reach the middle of the first busy intersection, where she ground metal against metal trying to find second gear. The engine died. Gabe didn't even flinch.
She restarted the car, but killed it again. Following Gabe's patient instructions, she finally got it restarted, but it hopped like a spastic frog before cruising forward. She took a deep breath and maneuvered back into traffic. Cringing, she risked an apprehensive glance at him. "Sorry."
He lounged in his seat, relaxed and at ease. He lifted a shoulder. "It's only a car."
"Most guys would be having a brain hemorrhage about now."
"I'm not most guys."
Now there was the understatement of the millennium.
He chuckled. "Besides, I like to live dangerously."
His laid-back acceptance gave her confidence. Delighting in the growl of the engine and the immense power under her command, she loosened her death grip on the wheel and pressed harder on the gas. The responsive car instantly shot forward. A thrill zinged through her, inspiring a big grin. By the time she pulled up in front of the music store, she was not only having fun, but could competently handle the Corvette.
Gabe started to speak, and she held up her hand. "Stay in the car, lean on the horn, yadda, yadda. This cloak-and-dagger stuff isn't necessary any longer, but far be it from me to shatter your illusions." Sighing, she handed over her keys.
In less than five minutes, he returned. "Looks okay."
The elevator whisked them upward. She opened the door, breathing in the familiar lemon polish scent mingled with her plants' earthy smell. Gabe's cleaning service had done a great job. The place was spotless.
"Twenty minutes," he warned.
"I want to polish my piano and water my plants. And get additional clothes. I hadn't planned on being gone this long."
"Before you morph into Suzy Homemaker, how about I show you what I found in Leo's office?" He held up the file. "Then I can read you the IRS reports while you do that other stuff."
In the tumultuous aftermath of realizing she loved him, she'd forgotten all about whatever he'd discovered at the club. She sat beside him on her pale yellow sofa, and he passed her a photocopied memo from the folder. She squinted at the words scribbled in a bold scrawl. "This is a description of Sav-Mart payroll checks, including the bank routing and account numbers. Where did you get this?"
"Leo's desk. I used his personal copy machine, conveniently located in his office." He smirked. "I also downloaded an incriminating disk of check styles, and a check-printing program off