Gabe

We had sex two more times that night. Each time was more amazing than the last.

It was becoming obvious that the more time I spent with Scarlett, the less focused I was on my job. Instead of seducing her last night, I should have been investigating the Escort Killer. There was a murderer on the loose, and all I could think about was plunging my cock into Scarlett’s sweet center and making her fall apart in my arms.

It was shameful. The only thing that saved me was that I knew Jake Haussler was investigating the crime scene. The man was an asshole, but thorough. If there was any evidence at the Morales estate, he’d find it. I made a mental note to check in with Sal at the precinct later to see what they discovered.

In the meantime, I needed to lay low, and what better way to lay low than with a beautiful woman? I noticed that each time we had sex, Scarlett became a little more like the bold girl I knew in high school. It was beautiful to watch, and seeing it made me curse the circumstances that had robbed her of her self-confidence.

Scarlett was more than beautiful, she was also strong. She just didn’t realize it yet. Her former boyfriend had stripped her of so much, After watching Bridget interact with her at the party, I guessed that Scarlett’s former mentor contributed to making her feel inferior, too. More than anything, I wanted to confront that woman and give her a piece of my mind. Doing so would blow my cover, though—a cover I had worked so hard to build.

With Scarlett in my arms, it was so easy to forget about investigations and murders. It would be so simple to come clean and tell her I wasn’t an escort. Being honest with her would put both of our lives in danger, however. I couldn’t risk it. So, instead of confessing the truth, I had to keep telling her a lie, just like the lie I had told her in high school.

Back then, I told her that our relationship was a casual fling. In reality, nothing had been further from the truth. While I had loved Scarlett with my whole heart, I knew that in order to fulfill my father’s dying wish, I had to let her go. I didn’t want her to be tied down to an undercover cop, never knowing where I was or how much danger I was in. My focus had to be on building my family legacy and caring for my two younger brothers. There wasn’t any room for anything else, or anyone else.

The breakup had been painful, but necessary. Deep down, I knew that I had done the right thing to let her go. Over the years, I had been on so many different assignments. Each assignment required me to assume a different personality and form different relationships in order to get the job done. I spent so much time pretending to be someone else, I had no idea who I was anymore.

Being with Scarlett changed that. She reminded me of who I was, and what I wanted in my life. Intimacy was forbidden in my world, and I didn’t realize how much I had missed it until Scarlett walked back into my life. I didn’t want to lose that feeling, and I sure as hell didn’t want to lose her.

I had to push her away, though—at least for a little while. I had a job to do, and I couldn’t be with Scarlett until it was done.

The alarm next to the bed went off. Scarlett groaned, turned and slapped her hand on one of the buttons on top.

“What time is it?” I asked.

She let out a helpless groan. “Too early.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Let me shower first.”

How could she have so much energy? There was one way to fix that . . . I grabbed her arm as she tried to get out of bed. “Kiss me first.”

She smiled and pulled her arm from my grasp. “Gabe, I really don’t have time for this. It’s the first day of the art show.”

“So?” I plastered on my most innocent expression. “It’s just one kiss.”

“I know you. It’s never just one kiss.” She gave me a quick kiss on the nose and scooted away before I could grab her again. “Later.”

“Scarlett—”

“I have an exhibit to put up. Besides, now that I know I have you for the entire week, we can take our time.”

I frowned. This wasn’t what I had in mind when we had made our agreement last night. In between our lovemaking, Scarlett had brought up Bridget’s private showing at the end of the week. She didn’t think she’d get in there without me on her arm. I agreed and suggested making up some excuse about a change of plans to explain my hanging around. Seeing us together might take some of the heat off her with the murder investigation, and I could make her look good in front of investors. Everything was set. I just had to run it by my “boss” at the escort agency for confirmation.

“Let that woman do it,” I said.

She frowned. “That woman?”

“The one I saw the night we met. Your assistant.”

“Violet?” She seemed to consider my words for a moment before responding. “If this was any other show I would.” She put on her robe and smiled. “Believe me, it’s tempting, but I need to be there to make sure things go smoothly. Artists are counting on me.” She fluffed her long hair out of her robe, a careless gesture that caused a stirring in my lower abdomen. “Besides, it’s not just the exhibit. I’m on panels and have meetings, too.”

“You sound busy.” I propped my head up on my hand and watched her move about the room. “What will I be doing during all of this?” Besides watching you and remembering how wonderful you were last night.

She considered me a moment before responding. “I don’t know.”

I raised my brows. “You don’t know?” Was she already giving me the boot? She couldn’t. I needed her to take me to that art show. Everyone who was at the party last night would be there. It would be the best time to question people about Henri and the events at the Morales estate.

She tilted her head to the side. “What do escorts do during the day?”

A red flag went off in my head, and I looked away, pretending to think. “I . . . I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Do you take classes, or have a day job?”

I glanced at her inquisitive stare. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, but I could see that her eyes shone bright with questions. “You just seemed to know a lot about dead bodies yesterday. Then there was police procedure, and hiding from the cops . . .” She held my gaze. “It just seemed as if you knew more than the casual gigolo.”

Scarlett had always been smart, and I silently cursed at my bad luck. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to blow my cover, either.

“I guess I do know more,” I hedged.

“Why?”

“Military training,” I said, falling back on my online profile.

“That’s right, you had gone into the military after high school.” She flashed me a suspicious look.

“Yeah.”

“Where did you go?”

“Basic training.”

“And then?”

“Afghanistan.”

She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Must have been hot.”

“Hot?” I asked as she strode toward the bathroom door.

“In the desert,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure there was the danger of heatstroke.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I didn’t like where this line of questioning was going. It seemed as if she was fishing for something, and I wanted to change the subject before she discovered whatever she was looking for.

She turned around in the doorway to the bathroom and flashed me a thoughtful look. “Your father must have been disappointed with you going into the military.”

“Huh?”

She gathered her clothes and turned to face him. “He had always wanted you to enter the police academy, right? It must have been a disappointment to learn that you didn’t follow in his footsteps.” She widened her eyes. “He doesn’t know that you’re an escort, does he?”

I blinked as I tried to come up with a suitable response. “He died several years ago,” I said.

“Oh, my God.” She crossed back through the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry.” She touched my hand and gave me that sympathetic look I had seen so many times before. “I didn’t know.”

“No one did.” We had already graduated when he died, and the following year I had joined the police academy. My brothers had moved in with my aunt and had transferred schools. There was no way anyone at our former school would have known.

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded toward the shower door. “You’d better go take your shower. We don’t want to be late.”

“Oh.” She straightened away from the bed. She hurried toward the bathroom and paused at the door. “Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry about your father. I liked him.”

I forced myself to smile. “Thanks.” It was unfortunate that the affection wasn’t returned. Now, looking back, it was plain to see that my father was too caught up in the family legacy to care about much of anything else—including his sons’ happiness.

Not that I wanted to dwell on that point right now. There were much more important things to think about. “Does that mean you’ll let me help set up for the art show?”

“Only if you behave yourself.”

I flashed her my most innocent look. “I am nothing but innocent.”

“Sure you are.” She chuckled and shook her head as she retreated to the bathroom.

Scarlett went into the bathroom and closed the door. Letting out a long breath, I leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling until I heard the water turn on and her voice rising up from under the door. She was singing, I realized. She seemed so innocent and carefree compared to the stressed-out woman from the day before. I closed my eyes and allowed myself a moment to listen, enjoying the comforting feeling I felt at the familiar sound.

I wished with every fiber of my being that things were different. If I had refused to grant my father’s dying wish, if I had instead followed my heart and asked Scarlett to marry me . . .

But I was eighteen back then, barely an adult. I idolized my dad and wanted to be just like him. I had made it my goal to walk the path in life he walked, to be a living tribute to his memory and his service. He was a good man, and a great cop, and more than anything I wanted to do his memory justice.

Funny how, years later, now that I had everything he had, it wasn’t enough. I lacked the satisfaction he had when closing a case and felt as if I had missed out on a large part of my life. Somehow, along the way, this job had ceased being a tribute to my father and had started becoming a burden. If I only knew then what I know now, then maybe, just maybe . . .

Rubbing a hand over my face, I pushed the morose thoughts from my head and got out of bed. Things weren’t different, and no amount of wishing was going to put it right. I had made my choice, and now I had to live with it.