Page 54 of Mistletoe Mistake
She raised an eyebrow at me. “I think I better say no. It's already pretty late, and I know there's no such thing as a quickie with you.”
I couldn't help smiling. She wasn’t wrong; I’d just closed my laptop for the same reason. “I'm a man of many talents, Gemma, but rushing my pleasure isn't one of them.”
“Another time, then.” She winked at me as she snapped the lotion bottle shut. Discarding the towel, she slipped a plain black slip nightgown over her head and crawled under the covers.
Though the action in itself was incredibly commonplace, my heart beat slightly faster as I watched her. No woman had stayed overnight in my bed for a very long time; not since that Christmas Eve with Samantha, in fact. All my sexual partners since then had been paid by the hour, and paying someone to sleep made no financial sense.
But with Gemma, I'd asked for all of her time, and obviously, that meant I would have to let her sleep sometimes. In a way, it wasn’t any different from eating with her, just another thing we needed to do as part of our day.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I asked as I climbed into bed next to her.
“You've got a business meeting tomorrow,” she replied, burrowing down into her pillow in a rather endearing way. “Your calendar was already full. It’s the one day I couldn't squeeze anything in.”
It took me a moment to remember what that appointment would be. With everything that had taken place with Gemma, the days had all begun to run together in my mind. Finally, it came back to me. “That’s right, I'm meeting with an old college friend of mine. His family's also in the hospitality business. It's just dinner and drinks, nothing formal. You could come along if you like.”
I didn't really have any idea why I extended the invitation, as if I couldn’t go one evening without seeing her.
Though Gemma smiled up at me, she also turned me down. “I'm sure you'll have more fun without me there. Besides, I could use a late night in the office. I've been a little distracted at work this week for some reason.”
The coy smile she gave me was so irresistible that I couldn't help bending down and giving her a quick kiss on the upturned corners of her mouth.
“As long as you're working on my hotel, you can work as long as you like. Goodnight, Gemma.”
“Goodnight, Cole.”
After I turned off the light and laid back on the pillows, Gemma's breathing quickly evened out, which didn’t surprise me. I must have worn her out. Turning towards her, I could just make out her face in the darkness. Gently, so I didn't wake her, I reached out and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. She really was exquisite. Laying there like that, without the sparkle in her eyes, she looked almost vulnerable too. I wanted more than ever to protect her, to keep her safe from everyone who dared to judge her or belittle her. That was the last thought I remembered before I fell asleep.
The next day passed quickly enough. Getting ready with Gemma in the morning felt a bit strange, getting dressed next to each other and chatting about our days, but we kept things light and casual as always. There was one brief moment, as she got ready to leave, when I hesitated, unsure if I should kiss her goodbye or not. I decided not to, but after she'd gone, I almost wished I had.
Once the work day began, the meetings backed into each other, one after another, until the time came for Jackson and I to meet my friend, Wilson, for dinner. Despite being British, he had attended Yale with me, and Jackson got to know him fairly well too. We always tried to get together whenever I visited London or he spent time in New York.
“Cole!” Wilson greeted me enthusiastically as we were shown to the table at the private club that he belonged to. Staid and a little stuffy, the venue perfectly embodied the type of atmosphere Ididn’twant at my hotels. “Good to see you. And Jackson, glad you could join us.”
Once we'd all shaken hands and sat back down, Wilson raised an eyebrow at me over his drink glass.
"You've made quite the stir since you've been in town."
I could play dumb and pretend he meant my hotel, but I knew what he was actually talking about: the photos with Gemma, of course.
That gave me an opening to ask him something I’d been wondering anyway. “Do you know Gemma? Do your families run in the same circles at all?”
Wilson shook his head. “No, my family's much too nouveau-riche to fit in with Totnes' set. I've met the son, Thomas, once or twice, but only for business. Never socially.”
Gemma had mentioned her brother once to me, very briefly, when she told me about her childhood Christmases, but I knew nothing about him. “What kind of business did you do with him?”
“Leaseholds,” he explained. “The Redvers family owns huge chunks of land in central London, which some of my buildings are built on.”
It sounded like there must be quite a lot of work involved with that, and I wondered why Gemma had decided to work at Anchor Design instead of getting involved in her family's business. It could just be that there hadn’t been an opportunity for her to use her passion and skills within that organization, but that didn't explain why she also worked under a different name. I'd never really given it much thought before.
Actually, when I thought about it, there were quite a few things I didn't know about her, which seemed strange somehow, given how intimately acquainted we were in other areas. I hadn’t told her about my family either, though. It simply hadn’t come up.
“I hoped you might bring her with you tonight,” Wilson continued. “Thought I could see for myself what all the fuss is about.”
What 'fuss' was he referring to? Did he mean the pictures of me and Gemma or the stupidity with that reality show?
My silent question was quickly answered as he leaned forward with a conspiratorial tone. “Hard to believe someone that attractive could be so useless in bed, but I guess it doesn't make much of a difference as long as you're getting off. That's why there's a market for sex dolls, after all.”
Jackson shifted nervously next to me, as if he anticipated an argument, but that had never been my style. I simply met Wilson's gaze coldly. "I wouldn't know. I don't put any stock in what the tabloids have to say about anyone."
