Page 30 of Undercover
“You’re right,” I said as evenly as I could manage, though I probably hit more of a note of suppressed rage. “I’m not used to events like this. Usually the champagne is French. Not bad for Prosecco, though.” I lifted my glass in a salute. “I appreciate your concern. Gabe, should we go find another drink? Allow your parents some time with their other guests?”
Seeing Dave’s face go purplish-red wasn’t quite as satisfying as feeling his nose break would’ve been, but Mark and Blythe’s matching open-mouthed stares made up the difference.
That and Gabe’s expression of pure, unadulterated adoration as he turned to look up at me.
“Yes,” he said faintly. “Another glass of Prosecco sounds lovely.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Italian wines!” Blythe hissed, and I forced myself not to laugh. Bingo. I wasn’t that much of a wine snob, but my sister had kind of a sparkling wine obsession and had taken me to more tastings than I could count. Score one for Amanda.
“Of course not,” I said. They wanted to be condescending assholes? Fine. Two could play at that game. “Italy’s a lovely country, and the Italians make far better Chianti than the French.” And with a nod, I pulled Gabe away into the crowd.
He pushed on my arm, steering me toward the side of the room. “Oh my God,” he choked out. “I can’t believe—that was beautiful. I’m going to remember that forever. And you didn’t even have to grab Dave’s ass to put that look on his face!”
What? That begged for an explanation, but I didn’t get the chance to ask. Just as I thought we’d escaped the worst this party could offer, a tall, dark, handsome Ken doll in a perfectly tailored custom tux appeared out of the crowd, said, “Gabe! I didn’t know you’d be here,” and pulled him in for a hug.
With his hands straying below the waist.
He fit the profile too. He was groping Gabe.
And what was left of my temper went straight out the giant, light-festooned windows.
10
Gabe
I knew what was going to happen a second before, like that instant when you could see two vehicles were about to collide and go up in flames.
Even as used to my brother as I was, I couldn’t believe how quickly Dave had managed to antagonize Alec, and I needed a minute to regroup. Maybe laugh a little. Or cry. Something. The room had some entrances along the side that led to various working parts of the factory. Right now, they had large potted plants in front of them.
We could hide behind one. I desperately needed to hide behind one, maybe with a whole bottle of Prosecco. No, one in each hand.
But then I spotted Adam Whipley, Middleton’s VP of sales, worming his way through the crowd, blinding white teeth on full display like a shark with a top-dollar dentist.
Oh no, no no…
“Gabe!” he said a little too loudly. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”
I did my best to dodge, but he came in for the hug like a heat-seeking missile, wrapping me in his muscular arms and letting his hands slide down past my waist, not quite far enough to count as groping. My face smooshed against his shoulder. God, he always smelled like he’d bathed in aftershave. Expensive aftershave, to be fair. But enough to drown in.
When I managed to extricate myself and take a step back, one of Adam’s hands still lingering on my waist, I bumped up against Alec. Who’d been standing so close it probably looked like the opening salvo of a threesome.
Adam’s hand got trapped between Alec’s body and mine, and he wriggled it to pull it loose.
Alec didn’t move a muscle. He was a wall of heat and tension at my back.
Adam’s smile went a little fixed, and he got his hand out at last, taking a single step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you’d brought someone,” he said, looking over my shoulder at Alec.
The two of them definitely shared some physical traits; Adam’s black hair was ruthlessly slicked back, but his dark eyes and broad build made him very much the same type.
So sue me. I had a type. And generally pretty bad taste to go with it.
I’d only slept with Adam once, after another party much like this one. And he never, ever let me forget it.
“Adam Whipley,” Adam went on after a moment, when Alec hadn’t said a damn word. “VP of sales, and Gabe’sveryclose friend.”
“Alec Borodin.” Instead of trying to go for a handshake, Alec slipped his arm around my waist, tugging me back against him more firmly. Almost indecently, even. He spread his fingers over my abdomen in a possessive gesture that maybe should’ve made me mad—but really, really didn’t. Very close? Seriously? “Gabe’s date.”
Adam rolled his eyes, and his smile widened. “Of course you are. For this evening, anyway. Gabe, call me tomorrow. We’ll get together again. I enjoyed last time.”
