‘You’re so used to doing whatever you want, achieving what you want, getting whoever and whatever you want. Have you ever really had to fight for anything, Gabe?’ Oh, now there was an edge, the slightest hint of cut in her tone.
‘I’ve had my battles.’
‘Breaking out from family expectation?’ she teased.
Well, that wasn’t as nothing as she made it sound when you were talking five generations of expectation, of being the sixth Andrew G. Hollingsworth and the only one to turn into Gabe. Of never feeling as if you could have your own voice. At the time, as a teen, it had been all but everything.
She laughed and answered her own question. ‘All that did fo
r you was get you even more used to having your own way.’
Yeah, he was totally used to getting what he wanted. But he was miles off getting it now. This was a first. This was not nice.
‘Gabe, when you’ve fought some really tough battles, you know when something’s worth that effort or not. And this place isn’t worth my fighting for any more,’ she said. ‘It’s right for me to leave it.’
He just didn’t believe she meant that. ‘Roxie—’ He broke off when he saw her stiffen.
And that was when he knew. She might be bleeding to death inside, but her mind was made up and she was the strongest person he’d ever met. She’d chosen her path and she was running for it. So why try and stand in her way? If this was what she truly wanted, and apparently it was, why argue and make it harder for her? He’d only fail at it anyway.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept at all the last couple of nights. Probably worrying and breaking her heart over losing the house. Now he was furious—she should have bloody gotten in touch with him. It hurt that she hadn’t. Instead she’d made all these decisions already. On her own.
Was that because he wasn’t important enough to her to talk to about it? He was merely a bedmate, nothing more than a toy for her? He had the horrible feeling it was. And there was one way of finding out for sure.
‘I got you a little something when I was in Sydney,’ he said, lightening his tone completely.
Her eyes widened in genuine surprise.
He dug the new phone from his pocket and handed it out to her. ‘We can stay in touch. If you ever need anything …’ He trailed off, momentarily floored by the frozen expression on her face. ‘You don’t need to worry about the ongoing costs or anything. I’ve got that covered.’
‘Gabe, I can’t accept this from you.’
Just the phone or anything he might offer? ‘Sure you can.’ He forced a smile. ‘It has a great camera—you’ll need that on your travels. I’ve downloaded some apps for you already, set up an account so you can get more, whatever you want.’
‘Gabe …’
‘You live in the mobile age, Roxie, you need one. It’s a safety thing—see it can be a torch, an alarm, a GPS navigation system …’ He was selling it too hard. Only because she looked more and more distanced. Not wanting to be rude to him, but clearly not wanting to even touch the thing. Oh, hell, he’d been right. The distress he read in her had nothing to do with him. She didn’t want to know him once she’d gone.
‘You can text me any time, send me a photo or something.’ He pushed one last time for a reaction.
And at that she smiled and took the phone from him. ‘You just want a sext pic, right?’
It was the worst attempt at humour he’d ever heard.
‘Honestly, I just want you to be able to get in touch if you need to,’ he said.
If she wanted to. Which clearly she didn’t. He got it now. Oh, yeah, she was hurting, she was a mess inside. But not about him, it was all her house. He’d seen her a bit shaken up only last week over a simple burst pipe; he knew how much work she’d put into that garden, into keeping the place in shape, the furniture that had all that history. And she was gutted about losing it all.
But not about leaving him.
‘I’d like to get in touch now,’ she purred, stepping closer. ‘There are still a few items on my list that we haven’t ticked.’ She actually pulled it out from her pocket and unfolded it.
Gabe didn’t see the sheet for the red fog of fury that suddenly materialised before his eyes. ‘You risked your neck going in there to get your sex list?’ And she’d stashed it in her pocket so they could work through it together tonight? Irate, he glared at her make-up and her pretty dress and her fancy shoes—she’d got dolled up for her last debauched night with him? He really was just a tool to help tick off her list?
She looked slightly apologetic. ‘Well, I would have got your stuff but I didn’t want to pry into your personal things.’
Oh, of course she didn’t. The dinners, the movies on the sofa, the laughs, that last time they’d been together? All had meant nothing to her. It really was just a physical fling. A feel-good-for-the-moment thing. She was keeping her innermost emotions at a distance and using him as some kind of take-the-edge-off crutch?
‘I think it’ll be okay if you just zip in and out to get your personal items quickly,’ she added, spreading her hands wider over his torso. ‘But you should probably get the construction guys in hard hats to retrieve the furniture and stuff.’
As if she were really that concerned for his welfare? She just wanted his damn body.
‘Come up to the studio with me,’ she murmured. Her lashes dropped as she watched her fingers sliding across his chest. ‘I’ve got that last bottle of Bolly we can share.’
He couldn’t believe she really wanted that now. She wanted to use him so she could forget the hurt of losing her house?
Hell, no. She wasn’t getting everything her own way. Not any more.
He tipped up her chin and looked into those mascara-framed, listless eyes. Bent and kissed her. Her arms slipped around him instantly, her lithe body melting, twisting, teasing against his already. It’d be so easy to fall deeper into her delicious heat, to take what was being offered. But what was on offer wasn’t enough. He wasn’t doing it to himself. If it was over, then it was over now. He had some pride. He wasn’t going to be a boy-toy for her right up to the minute she was ready to discard him and step onto some plane. He had some self-respect.
And he was angry.
‘Those bottles aren’t really big enough for sharing,’ he said, trying to keep a lid on it. Trying to ignore how badly his body wanted him just to give in. ‘And I don’t think there’s anything more I can teach you now.’
Roxie watched him stalk over to the house. Her pride reared up, she knew what Gabe liked and wanted. It was what she wanted too. To be free to have some fun. And she’d wanted to get through this last horrendous night having fun with the one guy she knew in the world capable of doing just that. Hell, she thought it was the only way she might get through tonight—in a state of mindlessness. And she desperately, desperately wanted to feel him that one last time. Because she wasn’t doing this ever again.
Only he’d just said no. And she was devastated.
She ran up the stairs to the garage to hide before the hit registered and she lost some of her tightly held composure. She faced the almost empty room. She’d sold all the furniture to an antique store—cheaply as she was in such a hurry. And she’d sold the car. That was how she’d gotten her airfare.
She looked down from the emptiness to the phone in her hand. The same as his, fancy and beautiful only he’d gotten hers a sleek silver case. Girly and gorgeous. Unable to resist, she pressed the button to turn it on. He’d loaded a picture of the Blades as her wallpaper. She tested the ringtone. It was the song they’d danced to just the other night. She opened up the contacts. There was only one programmed already. Gabe Hollingsworth. There was a picture and everything. One he’d obviously snapped himself—with a more self-conscious grin than she’d ever seen on him in the flesh. More handsome than ever. She couldn’t bear it.
Glancing up, the first thing she landed on was the fridge. It mocked her with its remaining half bottle of Bolly. She opened the fridge door and chucked the phone in the ice-box in the top. Slammed the door and backed away from it as if it were some bomb she had to freeze to disarm.
Which was how she had to deal with him all over.
Gabe had hit a new low of voyeurism. Standing at the window in his darkened room in the damaged house, he watched her put the phone in the fridge and slam the door. His jaw dropped. Not exactly what he’d expected. But why was he surprised? She was putting all her feelings on ice. And didn’t she do everything to the extreme? She wasn’t just vegetarian, she was vegan. She didn’t just have a vegetable plot, she had a vegetable paddock. When she’d decided to get a gig dancing, she went for the biggest, flashiest show in town. When she’d d
ecided she wanted him as her lover, she’d been fearless in her pursuit. But when things were finished, they were totally finished. No looking back—like her decision to sell the house, the car, everything. No phone, no contact. All or nothing.
And she’d put him in the nothing box.
Too many long hours later, he waited at the bottom of her stairs. She appeared mid-morning. Looking awful but beautiful, hiding the lack of sleep damage beneath a layer of make-up thick enough to withstand a nuclear detonation.
‘I’m giving you a ride to the airport.’ He stood to let her past, his body stiff from sitting so long.
‘That’d be great.’ She cracked a smile through the warpaint.
So that was how they were playing it, as if it were all still fun and friendly and meaningless. He’d take her to the airport and let her go, right? It wasn’t fair to try to hold someone back—he knew just how much resentment could build when someone tried to clip your wings.
‘Got your phone?’ he asked as casually as he could given he had shards of glass in his throat.
The smile stayed fixed as she nodded. He saw her gripping her hands together tightly, her fingers locked into each other. He made a thing of starting the engine and then clapped a hand on his forehead. ‘Oh, I forgot something, hang on a mo.’
It took less than a minute to jog through the garage and up the stairs. He used the keys she’d just given him to hand to the lawyer. Apparently he could be trusted with that minion task. Her studio was all but empty—that furniture had already gone, and he’d noticed the car was gone from the garage too. It cut to the quick that she’d chucked the stuff that only days ago she’d held so tightly to her. Sure enough, the phone was there in the ice-box where she’d left it. She had no intention of keeping in touch with him. Gabe forced his blood to freeze, stopping the surging anger from flooding the deep wound she’d gouged inside him. He had to stay cool on this. So she was the first woman to dump him—maybe that was why he was so bothered. Maybe it was all just hurt pride.