Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(35)

“Do you like them?”

“I love them, Julianne. I’m just surprised. How did you…?”

“While you were at one of your meetings, I walked over to the Ponte Vecchio and bought them. I thought they would look good with your fancy shirts.” She looked at the floor. “I’m afraid I bought them using some of my scholarship money. So really, you bought them for yourself.”

Gabriel rose to his knees and shuffled over to her, kissing her in gratitude. “That money is yours. You earned it. And the cufflinks are perfect. Thank you.”

She smiled at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. “There’s another gift for you.”

He grinned as he found a second small, flat present. Underneath the wrapping paper he found a framed eight-by-ten inch reproduction of Marc Chagall’s painting Lovers in the Moonlight.

Inside the enclosed card Julia had written a few sweet nothings, declaring her love and her gratitude at finding him again. She also added another, more important, gift.

I’d like to pose for your photographs.

All my love,

Your Julia.

XOXO

Gabriel was speechless. His eyes met hers with a questioning look.

“I think it’s time you had some photographs of us to hang on the walls of your bedroom. And I would like to do this for you. If that’s all right.”

He moved to join her on the love seat and kissed her deeply. “Thank you. The painting is lovely, but what is far more lovely is you.” He grinned. “Your fondness for Chagall will be our inspiration. But I think we’ll have to practice our poses first.”

He moved his eyebrows suggestively, before leaning forward to tug her lower lip into his mouth.

“You are the greatest gift,” he murmured. He felt her lips move into a smile beneath his mouth, and he pulled back to retrieve one of her gifts from under the tree.

She rewarded him with shining, eager eyes. When she opened the small box, she found a compact disc that he’d recorded for her, entitled Loving Julianne.

“It’s the playlist that we listened to in Florence,” he explained.

“Thank you. I was going to ask you for a copy of those songs. They’ll bring back happy memories.”

Underneath the jewel case she found a series of gift certificates for various spa treatments at the Windsor Arms Hotel in Toronto, some of which had various exotic sounding names such as Vichy shower and seaweed and salt body wrap.

She thanked him, reading the titles aloud until she came to the last certificate.

Arrangements have been made for you to see a plastic surgeon in Toronto as soon as we return. Based upon the information I provided, he’s confident that your scar can be removed completely. You don’t need to worry about it anymore,

Gabriel.

He released the page from her tense fingers, smiling apologetically. “I probably shouldn’t have included that in the box. Sorry.”

Julia caught his hand. “Thank you. I thought I would have to wait. But this is the best gift you could have given me.”

Gabriel exhaled deeply and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “You are worth it,” he declared, his eyes blazing.

She smiled a little and peered around him, gazing at a large box that was still underneath the Christmas tree.

“There’s one more present. Is it for me?”

He nodded.

“Well, can I open it?”

“I’d rather you waited.”

She frowned. “Why? Do you want me to take it to Richard’s house? To open it in front of your family?”

“God, no!”

He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a half-smile. “Sorry. It’s just kind of—ah—personal. Would you wait and open it tonight? Please?”

She looked at the gift curiously. “Judging by the size of the box, it isn’t a kitten.”

“No, it isn’t. Although if you wanted a pet, I’d buy one.” He looked suspiciously at the open box that was sitting by the door.

“What was in your gift from Paul?”

Julia shrugged, pretending that she hadn’t known that question was coming. “A bottle of maple syrup, which I gave to Dad, and a couple of toys.”

“Toys? What kind of toys?”

She appeared indignant. “Children’s toys, of course.”

“Didn’t he give you a toy bunny a couple of months ago? I think he has some kind of rabbit fetish.”

Angelf*cker.

“Gabriel, you have a fetish for women’s shoes. Professor Pot, meet Mr. Kettle.”

“I’ve never denied my aesthetic appreciation for women’s footwear. They’re works of art, after all,” he said primly. “Especially when a woman as lovely as you is wearing them.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “He gave me a stuffed Holstein and a pair of Dante and Beatrice figurines.”

Gabriel’s face manifested a look of intense perplexity. “Figurines?” His mouth widened into a provocative smile. “Don’t you mean action figures?”

“Figurines, action figures. Whatever.”

“Are they anatomically correct?”

“Now who’s being a child?”

He reached over to trace the curve of her cheek. “I was just wondering what kind of action they were capable of participating in—privately, of course.”