Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4) Page 10
“Sounds like a good plan. Can’t have stuff going bad in the kitchen. Although, if the house smelled, maybe Gaby wouldn’t miss her home so much.”
Mal shrugged off his attempt at humor and gestured to a photo album on the table next to her. “Well, the fridge led to the pantry where I found that.”
“May I?”
At her nod, Gunnar leaned across to pick up the book and caught a whiff of her shampoo, something sweet and citrusy. He pulled back, sorry to lose the scent, and opened the book.
The nature of the contents dawned as he leafed through the pages. Someone had carefully constructed a diary of Mal’s life. Photos of her and a stern-looking woman he surmised to be Harriet populated the first ten pages. The pictures on the grand piano in the corner portrayed Mal’s mother as a much happier person. He turned his attention back to the book on his lap. The chronicle transformed into a study of only Mal. Each subsequent image was pasted into the book in an identifiable age progression. Beginning around the time Mal was twelve years old based on the captions.
Sheets of loose-leaf paper spilled onto the floor from the back of the book. He collected them to shove them back into place when he noticed the signature scrawled across the bottom of several. A quick glance confirmed they were Ben Eckert’s version of progress reports.
The knuckles on her fisted hand turned white. “She knew what I was doing. All my life, even though she wasn’t in it, didn’t want to be part of it, Harriet kept track of me.”
Setting the album back on the table, he took her hand and massaged it out of the fist. Once she relaxed, he wrapped his fingers around hers and rested their joined hands on his thigh. “Why does that make you mad?”
She regarded the floor for several moments. “I didn’t know. Dad never told me he’d kept her up to date on what was going on in my life. ” She looked at him, hurt lurking in the shadows in her eyes. “I meant enough to her to make that album. Then she put it somewhere she’d be sure to see it every day.”
And that, Gunnar thought, was what bothered her most. His parents had opted for an absentee role, but at least they spoke frequently with their children. Harriet Jansen hadn’t made the effort. “But she never bothered to reach out to you. And there’s the crux. She cared, but not enough.”
“Give the man a dollar.” She laughed harshly. “What would it have cost her to send a birthday card or call me on Christmas? She cut off all communication, excised me from her life like a tumor. But...maybe she didn’t. Maybe I’ve wasted a lot of years being angry at her.”
Gunnar released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her palm rested on his thigh, the heat searing a path up his leg. He did his best to ignore it. “Jesus, you were what? Twelve when she left? You couldn’t help it.”
“But there was more than just anger. I spent too many hours trying to achieve something she could be proud of, and it never seemed to make a difference. I didn’t think it—I—mattered to her. Until today when I walked in the front door.”
“This album would make a difference to anyone.”
“It’s not the album as much as the floral arrangement on the front table.” She shook her head. “It’s one of mine. I recognize the vase. I remember arranging the flowers in it because the customer had been specific about what she wanted. She was a regular, and I never knew it was my mom.”
“She called in regularly to order flowers?” That sucked on a grand scale. Harriet Jansen just rocketed to the top of his hope-they-rot-in-hell list.
“And asked for me every time. Would only speak to me. I used to think it was odd because the customer lived in Boston, and she had to pay a hefty delivery fee on each order.”
She blinked hard, her eyes swimming in moisture. Gunnar battled to resist the urge to kiss away the tears. That wouldn’t have been an appropriate reaction from a friend. He settled for brushing them away with the pad of his thumb. Even with the tears, her skin was smooth and soft.
“She never told me who she really was. It’s like she wanted to know me but didn’t want me to know her.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Tell me about it.” Her shoulders moved beneath his arm, a shrug that was anything but nonchalant. “What I don’t understand is why. What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. The fault was strictly Harriet’s.” He shifted until he faced her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her gently. He waited until her eyes were trained on his face before he whispered. “Let it be enough that she followed your progress. That she cared enough...was proud enough to prominently display flowers her daughter arranged in her home.”
“You’d think I could. But it’s not. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it now.” She reared away from him, her tone bitter as she spoke. “While that whole thing stings, I’m really mad at my dad. He delivered the flowers here. He knew who they were for and never said squat about it.”
“Mal, as effed up as that is, he must have had his reasons. Maybe she swore him to secrecy. Or threatened to quit ordering from you if he revealed her secret. You need to ask him.”
She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure I can look at him right now, let alone speak to him. He betrayed me.”
“Malin—”
Cutting his words off with a flash of her hand, her brows drew together, a violent line over snapping eyes. “You don’t know anything about him, about our relationship. He picked Harriet over me.”
His gut twisted like he would wring out a damp towel. He understood how much the knowledge would have thrown her. He laid his hand on her crossed arms, close enough to her heart to experience the angry thump. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She dipped her gaze to his mouth and leaned toward him. He tracked the path of her tongue as she moistened her lips, imagining how soft they might be if he pressed his against them. Blood heated and surged through his veins.
She shook her head and eased away. “Kissing you would be a bad idea.”
He let her go. For now. “Hey, some of the worst bad ideas turn out to be the best ones in the end.”
“Not this one.” She stood and jerked the hem of her bright pink sweater down. “We should load the bed into the van. I do have to get to work this morning. And I’m taking you away from the gym.”
Disappointment settled in his gut like a sinking stone. He’d like nothing better than to press her body into the cushions of the uncomfortable couch and cover it with his. To explore the sweet steamy confines of her mouth with his tongue. He willed the feelings away, the way he willed his muscles to finish an especially tough repetition of weights or to swipe the paintbrush over the textured wall in the locker room last night.
He scrubbed his fists over his thighs then stood. “You’re probably right.”
He couldn’t be positive, but the shadow that flitted over her face seemed disappointed. There might be hope for them yet.
* * * *
Malin trailed her hand on the smooth wood of the ornate handrail as she led Gunnar up to Gaby’s bedroom. She’d preceded him by a few steps, certain if she turned, she’d find his eyes on her butt. The idea of it left her with a curious, half embarrassed, half turned-on vibe.
He’d been so nice about what she’d shared about Harriet and that damned photo album. About her father’s culpability and enabling behavior with her mom. Gunnar had listened without making suggestions for fixing it. He’d scored enough points for offering support that she’d almost let him kiss her. Truth be told, she’d almost kissed him.
It would have been spectacular. She was drawn to him like a bee to a flower—the attraction intoxicating and heady. But, like a recovering alcoholic faced with a full bottle of vodka, she’d dug deep for the willpower to resist. Kissing Gunnar would be a mistake. A spectacularly, wonderfully bad mistake.
They’d reached the top of the stairs and Gunnar let out a low whistle. “This is the longest damn hall I’ve ever seen.”
Gunnar shook his head. “If there were just two of them living here, why did they need this much space?”
“Gaby said her mom considered moving after Gaby’s dad died. But Harriet changed her mind when Gaby insisted she didn’t want to move. Losing the option to choose now has to be hard on Gaby.” Mal moved down the corridor to the third door on the left.
It was the room of a young girl, the kind of room Mal had grown up in once her dad had agreed to let her decorate it herself. Gaby’s walls were painted in turquoise and cream stripes. The comforter on the double bed was a paisley print in bright yellows, greens, and blues, matching the walls. The linens were neatly pulled up. The same way Gaby had left her bed at Mal’s house this morning.
Mal kicked a cardboard box toward the bed. Grasping a corner of the duvet, she pulled the cover off then folded it. Gunnar picked up the pillows that had scattered to the floor and shoved them into another box.
She handed the folded blanket to him and gestured to the door across the hall. “Gaby said there were extra sheets in the linen closet. Be right back.”
Lavender-scented air puffed in her face when she opened the closet, smelling clean and fresh, evoking memories of crawling into her childhood bed after her sheets had been laundered. She buried her nose in the sheets she pulled from the shelf and inhaled deeply. When had they stopped putting sachets in the closets to prolong that smell? Probably right after Harriet had split.
Mal grimaced. These comparisons had to stop. She clutched the spare linens to her chest and shoved the door closed. Spinning around, she strode back to the room, swiftly crossing the floor. The sheets made a dull thud when she dropped them into the box.
She whirled around and slammed into Gunnar. Her breath whooshed out in surprise. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders to steady her, holding her against his rock-solid chest. Tingles started in her breasts and spread like vines of ivy, taking root between her legs.
Gunnar captured her gaze and held it, his eyes heated with desire. His long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks when he dropped his gaze to her lips. There was no doubt in her mind he still wanted to kiss her. And snugged against his body the way she was, Mal wasn’t going to stop him this time. She lifted her chin.
Gunnar’s lips were tender-firm when he pressed them to her mouth. The kiss, tentative at first, deepened when Gunnar licked along the seam of her lips. Awareness flared everywhere they touched: her breasts to his chest, his arms around her, where his belt buckle pressed into her abdomen. Caressing her lips with his, he moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to the small of her back. His fingers teased lower, pressing her into his hips.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. The instant she opened her lips against his, he angled his head then dipped his tongue into her mouth. The ticklish sensation of his tongue sliding on hers exhilarated. He tasted of peppermint.
Gunnar tightened his arms and turned their bodies in a half circle, walking her backward until her knees hit the side of the bed. He spun again and without releasing her lips, sat on the bare mattress and pulled her onto his lap. His kiss had turned insatiable, his lips greedy and insistent.
The world tilted as he shifted his hands to her shoulders and pressed until she was prone on the bed and he spooned her as he lie on his side. Her back rested on the soft pillow-top, her legs sprawled over his. He dug his fingers into her hips, drawing her closer to the erection restrained behind the zipper of his jeans. Nerve endings she’d ignored for the past few month sprang to life, pulsing and throbbing in time with her racing heart. She snuggled harder against his lap and at the increased pressure he groaned.
“Oh, God, Malin. You feel incredible,” Gunnar whispered as he trailed his lips to her earlobe, gave a little nip, then soothed the bite with a lap of his tongue.
She arched her neck as he licked his way down her throat. He nibbled along her collarbone, using his chin to move her sweater out of the way of his lips. She opened her eyes, barely seeing the ceiling over Gunnar’s head when he swirled his tongue around the hollow of her throat.
She caught sight of the framed photo of Gaby and her parents on the far wall as Gunnar put his hand on the bottom of her sweater and tugged up. His hot hand connected with the bare skin of her midriff just as reality crashed over her head with the stunning, cold clarity of a bucket of ice water. She was making out with a guy she had no business getting involved with in her sister’s bedroom in her mother’s house. What the hell was she thinking?
She grasped his wrist and tugged. The heat of his skin against hers almost made her change her mind. Almost. “Gunnar, stop.”
He stilled, his breath rushing harshly in her ears, his heart crashing erratically against her breast. Pulling his hand from under her top, he splayed it over her stomach, the light pressure just as sexy and commanding as his lips had been.
“You really want me to stop?” His breath tickled as he whispered against her cheek.
“This is a colossally bad idea.”
“It isn’t, really. We’re both adults, in spite of the fact that we’re fooling around on your kid sister’s bed.” He nudged his hips against her butt, leaving no doubt about his eagerness to move their relationship into a more grown-up zone.
Summoning the remaining dregs of her willpower shouldn’t be this hard. Holding her breath, she pushed at his shoulders and struggled to sit up. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Gunnar flop away from her onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, chest heaving, the hard ridge of his erection clearly outlined under the heavy denim. He used his other hand to stroke her spine, soothing away her residual anxiety, maintaining a physical connection between them. Warmth bloomed as he continued to trail his fingers calmly on her back, the simple gesture at odds with his harsh breathing.
“It is a bad idea, and you know it,” she whispered. “We’ve crossed a line I didn’t want to.”
The mattress gave as Gunnar sat up. She scooted sideways, attempting to minimize any contact that would make her want to push him back on the bed and straddle him. In the mirror over the dresser, she saw his frown.
“We’ll agree to disagree on the point,” he said. “I won’t apologize for stepping over a boundary you’ve drawn without any input from me. I’m glad we did because it confirms my belief we’d be good together.”
Malin stood and crossed her arms over her chest. They would be good together. Everything about the man appealed. Except his habit of changing partners with obscene frequency. “We’re better as friends, Gunnar. Can we leave it at that?”
He looked to the side before his gaze returned to her face, resolve written clearly in his eyes. “For now. But we will revisit your imaginary line in the sand. Sooner than later.”
Chapter 10
Gunnar finally made it to work a freckle before eleven. He stopped by the front desk for a status report from his day manager. “The building is still standing so everything must be running smoothly, right? Maybe I should leave you in charge more often.”
Charly O’Dell greeted the member checking in before she responded. “Um...no, thank you. The boot camp instructor never showed. Again. Michael was already in the building and wearing his walkie-talkie for once. He took the class. Allan is still a no-show.”
Third time this month the normal instructor missed class. Time to consider a new employee. Someone who understood what he should do when the alarm clock sounded at four-thirty in the morning. “When he finally graces us with his presence, please ask him to find me first.”
Charly’s bright red ponytail bobbed when she nodded. Gunnar smiled at the member scanning his card for entry, then saluted Charly and sauntered toward the in-house café for a glass of iced green tea. Before he went to his office, he checked in with all departments. Satisfaction somersa
ulted in his mind. He had most of the right staff in place to allow the club to function the way he envisioned. Except for the boot camp instructor.
Settling into the chair behind his desk, he tapped on the keyboard to unlock his computer and entered his password. While he waited for the machine to launch, he let his mind wander back to the scene in Gaby’s bedroom.
He’d meant to offer comfort to Malin and ended up kissing her. Her soft lips had clung to his, her sweet mouth a haven. The way her body had felt, cradled on his lap against his cock, had inflamed him. Conscious thought had been obliterated, leaving instinct and raw feeling in its place. And his gut reaction was he wanted more than just friendship from Mal. Although, he’d take that, too. In spite of her insistence they could only be friends, Gunnar was convinced they should, and would, be more.
Shifting in his chair to ease the sudden restriction of his khakis, he turned his attention to his computer. The spreadsheet he’d been working on yesterday was open. Well, that was an instant soft-on. He’d closed the file before he left. Hadn’t he? Did it...? Had it been altered? Leaning forward, he peered at the rows and columns of numbers he couldn’t finesse or force to add up.
The ache that had clutched the back of his neck at the end of yesterday fluttered to life again, promising to clamp like a vise if he didn’t find the solution to the puzzle today. He opened his browser, logged on to Pandora, and tuned to the eighties station he’d set up. The music should have been distracting, but it helped him focus. Flexing his fingers, he cracked his knuckles and got to work.
Keeping the office door closed, he buried his head in the books for the next hour. Until his cell phone rang. He looked at the display before answering. Happiness did a dance across his shoulders when he read his sister’s name. He swiped his forefinger across the screen. “Rik-a-rak! How’s my adorable new niece, Amelia?”
“Jeez, it’s like now I have a baby, you forget all about me. You never ask how I am.” Rikki’s pout was obvious, even through the phone connection.