LITMIR.BIZ

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lot at T.A. Furniture Designs. Belatedly it occurred to him that he’d left the key in his jeans from yesterday—then he spotted the red car parked close to the building.

      Gabby. It figured she’d be the first in. If there was an employee equivalent of teacher’s pet, she was it.

      Still, it would give him a chance to apologize to her again without the risk of the guys overhearing. He’d get it out of the way, then he and Gabby could go back to pistols at ten paces or whatever it was they did whenever they were in the same room.

      He locked his truck and strode to the entrance. He pressed the doorbell that had been provided for after-hours visitors and waited. When no one came after a couple of minutes, he knocked and tried the bell again.

      A few seconds later the workshop door swung open and Gabby walked through. The good-natured smile on her face faded when she recognized him through the glass. His gaze took in first her T-shirt, then her baggy combat fatigues and finally her chunky punk rocker boots as she strode toward him. Lastly, he focused on her hair, which had been parted to one side and gelled into a shiny brown helmet of asexual hair.

      She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Exactly how long do you think it takes to walk from the back room to the front door?”

      His gaze dipped to the image of k.d. lang printed across her chest. “Nice T-shirt.”

      He wasn’t stupid—he knew a challenge when he saw one—and he couldn’t hide the smile curving his lips a moment longer.

      “What’s so funny?”

      He patted her on the shoulder as he moved past her. “I’m flattered you went to so much trouble for me. I didn’t realize you cared.”

      He heard her quick intake of breath.

      “Please. I know you think you’re the center of the universe and God’s gift to women, but you’re not the center of my world, Jon Adamson. Maybe it’s time to get over yourself.”

      He waited while she finished her little speech. Then he grabbed the price tag that was still dangling from her collar, tugging it free.

      “Must have been hard to find that T-shirt on such short notice. Like I said, it’s nice to know you care.”

      He dropped the tag into her hand. He’d delivered the perfect exit line and the script called for him to walk away now. But he couldn’t resist hanging around to see her reaction. Maybe it made him a little twisted, but he was starting to enjoy these sparring sessions.

      She looked at the tag in her hand, then slowly raised her gaze to his. He was all set to savor his victory, but she shifted slightly and a shaft of sunlight hit her face, catching her eyes and glinting off the earrings that Tyler and Ally had given her.

      He blinked.

      Ally was way off base—Gabby’s eyes were far richer than the gemstones sparkling at her ears. He didn’t even have a name for the warm golden tone of her irises. Cognac? Honey? Amber? None of them seemed adequate. Set off by long, dark lashes, they were hands down, no questions asked, the most arresting, beautiful eyes he’d ever gazed into. No mineral composite dug out of the ground was ever going to do them justice.

      The silence stretched between them. Jon realized he was staring, but couldn’t make himself stop.

      “I suppose you think you’re pretty clever,” she said.

      “No.”

      For the life of him he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then she stepped out of the sunlight and his brain came back online.

      “I want to apologize,” he said. “For last night. For the whole gay/lesbian thing.”

      Her mouth tightened. “You already said sorry. It was a misunderstanding. I get it.”

      He looked at k.d. lang again. “Do you?”

      She pulled her keys from the lock and dropped them into the pocket of her baggy pants.

      “You done? Because I’ve got work to do.” She turned on her heel. He grabbed her elbow. She stilled, then narrowed those incredible eyes.

      How had he not noticed them before? He must have been blind.

      “I really am sorry, Gabby. I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but I didn’t mean to embarrass or hurt you last night.”

      He felt her stiffen. She shook off his hand.

      “I wasn’t embarrassed. And you certainly didn’t hurt me. I barely know you. Why would I care what you think of me?”

      She was so damned prickly. He bet the word gracious wasn’t even in her vocabulary.

      “You know, I have no idea. Just like I have no idea why I even bothered to apologize again. You go ahead and enjoy your indignation. I’m sure it’s very satisfying.” He walked away from her.

      “Fine. I accept your apology,” she called after him.

      “Good. Great.” He pushed through the swinging door with more verve than strictly necessary.

      The door swung sharply back, cutting off anything she might have been about to say. He stood in the silent workshop for a long beat, trying to rein in his temper.

      What was it about her that pissed him off so much? Even when he tried to be nice they wound up fighting. She took everything he said the wrong way, even his apologies.

      He simply didn’t get it.

      The door opened and Gabby entered. She didn’t look at him as she marched toward her office. He watched her straight spine, then he shrugged.

      So what if she didn’t like him? He wasn’t one of those people who had to have everyone love him. He was a big boy. He could live with her animosity. It wasn’t as though it was forever, after all. A few months from now, he’d be somewhere else and she’d be nothing but a fading memory, notable only for her defensiveness and fantastic eyes.

      He turned his back on her. He had work to do.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      GABBY FELT LIKE AN IDIOT. She’d been so determined to show Jon that she didn’t give two hoots what he thought of her. Then she’d put so much time and energy into dressing to meet his mistaken assumptions that she’d done the exact opposite. She might as well have stuck with the miniskirt and stilettos.

      She glanced at the k.d. lang T-shirt. She’d had to drive twenty minutes out of her way to pick it up this morning before coming to work. Just so she could thumb her nose at Tyler’s brother.

      God, she was dumb.

      But that was fairly well established after last night’s self-revelation.

      What had she said to him? I barely know you. Why would I care what you think of me?

      It should have been true. She wished it was. But she had only to look in the mirror to know what a big fat lie it was. She’d spent hours this morning caring about what Jon thought of her. And for the life of her she didn’t understand why.

      The beginning of a headache pulsed behind her left eyebrow. She pulled her in-tray close and grabbed a stack of invoices. She needed to stop gnawing on this stuff. It was doing her head in—literally.

      It took some serious willpower, but gradually she lost herself in her work. The rest of the team straggled in, until finally she heard Tyler’s deep voice as he called out a greeting to the crew.

      Her stomach tensed and she put down her pen.

      Any minute now he would stick his head through the door and say hello. A dart of panic raced up her spine.

      Relax. It’s a day like any other. He’ll say hi, and you’ll say hi back, and the world will keep spinning. The same as it did yesterday, the same as it will tomorrow.

      The

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