that means you're driven a little crazy with my safety precautions, isn't that part of the give-and-take?" I growled.
"How do you make something unreasonable sound reasonable?" "It's a gift."
Grabbing his very fine, very taut ass in my hands, I squeezed.
"I need more coffee to deal with your gift, ace."
* * *
It had become somewhat of a Wednesday tradition for Mark, his partner Steven, and me to go out to lunch.
When Mark and I arrived at the little Italian restaurant he'd chosen and found Shawna waiting with Steven, I was really touched.
Mark and I had a very professional relationship, but somehow we'd managed to make that personal and it meant a lot to me.
"I'm so jealous of your tan," Shawna said, looking casual and cute in jeans, embellished tank top, and filmy scarf.
"The sun just makes me red and gives me more freckles."
"But you've got that beautiful hair to show for it," I pointed out, admiring the deep red hue.
Steven ran a hand through his hair, which was the exact same color as his sister's, and grinned.
"The things one sacrifices to be hot."
"How would you know?" Shawna shoved at his shoulder with a laugh, an effort that didn't budge her brother even an inch.
Where she was slender as a reed, Steven was big and strapping.
I knew from talking to Mark that his partner was very hands-on with his construction business, which explained both his size and the rugged condition of his hands.
We entered the restaurant and were seated right away, thanks to the reservation I'd made when Mark had invited me to lunch.
It was a small establishment, but it had great charm.
Sunlight poured in through the floor- to-ceiling windows and the aroma of the food was so tantalizing it made my mouth water.
"I am so excited about Friday."
Shawna's soft blue eyes were lit with anticipation.
"Yeah, she'll take you," Steven told me dryly, "and not her big brother."
"Sooo not your scene," she shot back.
"You hate crowds."
"Just gotta establish some personal space, that's all."
Shawna rolled her eyes.
"You can't be a bruiser everywhere."
The talk about crowds had me thinking of Gideon and his protective streak.
"Mind if I bring the guy I'm seeing?" I asked.
"Or is that a buzzkill?" "Not at all.
Does he have a friend who'd like to come?" "Shawna."
Mark was clearly shocked.
And disapproving.
"What about Doug?" "What about him? You didn't let me finish."
She looked at me and explained, "Doug's my boyfriend.
He's in Sicily for the summer taking a culinary course.
He's a chef."
"Nice," I said.
"I dig guys who can cook."
"Oh, yeah."
She grinned, then aimed a glare at Mark.
"He's a keeper and I know it, so if your guy has a friend who's fine with filling the empty seat with no possibility of a hookup, bring him along."
I immediately thought of Cary and grinned.
But later that day, after Gideon and I had spent quality time with our personal trainers and had returned to his apartment for the night, I changed my mind.
I got up from the couch where I'd been trying unsuccessfully to read a book and padded down the hall to his home office.
I found him frowning at whatever he was working on, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
The glow of the monitor and the spotlight aimed at the photo collage on the wall were the only sources of illumination in the room, which left much of the large space in shadow.
He sat in the semidark, bare- chested and beautiful, alone and powerfully self-contained.
As he always did while working, he looked solitary and unreachable.
I felt lonely just looking at him.
The combination of the physical distance caused by my period and Gideon's understandable decision to sleep separately stirred my deepest insecurities, made me want to cling tighter and try harder to keep his attention focused on me.
That he was working instead of spending time with me shouldn't have rankled - I knew how busy he was - but it did.
I felt abandoned and needy, which told me I was regressing into familiar bad patterns.
The simple fact was, Gideon and I were the best and worst things that had ever happened to each other.
He looked up and pinned me with his gaze.
I watched his focus shift from work to me.
"Am I neglecting you, angel?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
I flushed, wishing he couldn't read me so well.
"I'm sorry to interrupt."
"You should always come to me when you need something."
Pushing his keyboard drawer in, he patted the empty space on the desk in front of him and wheeled his chair back.