Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno #3)(97)

“After we spent the weekend together, you didn’t contact me. No phone calls, no texts. Now it’s the weekend and you show up on my doorstep. Did you fly all the way down here for a booty call?”

“Of course not. If you’d let me explain, I—”

“I’m not a booty call, Simon. Take your red roses and go back to Washington. I can’t keep you from bragging about what happened, but it would be nice if you let me tell my parents first. I don’t want my father reading in the newspaper about how I got drunk and slept with you on our second date.”

She started to close the door, but he flexed his arm, stopping her.

“Just hold on. Can I come in?”

“No.”

He leaned closer, dropping his voice.

“I came here because I wanted to see you. And I chose red roses because I thought you’d like them.”

April clutched the edge of the door tightly but didn’t respond.

“Let me take you to dinner and we’ll talk. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll get back on a plane and you’ll never see me again.”

Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s your angle?”

“I like you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“What about your father and the presidential campaign?”

Simon’s eyes widened. It took a moment for him to recover himself.

“He asked me to take you out. I did. That’s where the politics ended.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her voice was soft and she looked like she was about to cry.

“Have a little more confidence in yourself, April. You’re pretty, you’re sweet. I wouldn’t have invited you to the Hamptons and taken you out for mojitos simply for politics.”

Her expression telegraphed her disbelief.

“I mean it. Now put those things in water and let me take you to dinner.” He handed her the roses and flashed a smile.

She hesitated, looking at the flowers.

“Okay.” She opened the door wider so that he could come in. “But no mojitos.”

“Scout’s honor.” He saluted her before closing the door behind them.

Chapter Forty-five

At the end of the Labor Day weekend, Julia and Gabriel returned to Cambridge in order to begin the academic year. Gabriel was teaching a graduate seminar and an undergraduate class at Boston University, while Julia attended Harvard.

In the second week of September, Gabriel visited a well-respected urologist. He didn’t want Julia to accompany him, since the appointment conflicted with one of her classes. So he went alone.

When he arrived home for dinner, she pounced.

“Well?”

“Good evening to you, too.” He brushed his lips against hers and pulled back, staring at her.

“I’m still getting used to these.” He touched the frames of her tortoiseshell glasses.

She adjusted them self-consciously before taking them off. “I only need them for reading. At least, that’s what the optometrist said.”

“You look like a sexy librarian. In fact, I think we should take them into the study and introduce them to the wonders of desk sex.”

Julia laughed. “You aren’t going to distract me with desk sex, Professor Emerson. I want to hear about your appointment.”

Gabriel’s smile faded.

“What if I promise you consecutive orgasms?” he whispered, grasping her wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed her, nipping at the skin.

She swallowed hard. “That sounds—great. But I still want to hear about the doctor.”

He took a step closer, walking her toward the kitchen table.

“And if I promise you kitchen table sex, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before?”

He placed her on the edge of the table, spreading her legs so that he could stand in between them.

She raised her hand to his face. “I’d say you’re worrying me because you’re trying to distract me with sex. Please tell me what happened.”

Gabriel pulled away and sat down heavily on a nearby chair.

“Did you cook or did Rebecca leave something?”

“Rebecca made lasagne.” Julia hopped off the table to retrieve a can of Coke from the fridge. She poured it over ice in a glass and handed it to him. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“The doctor isn’t sure it will work.” Abruptly, Gabriel placed the glass on the table.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She sat in the chair next to him and placed a hand on his arm.

“He’s pretty confident we could do artificial insemination if the reversal is unsuccessful, but I have to be tested to see if I’m producing viable sperm. When he has the results, he’ll determine if we should schedule a reversal or not. My test is scheduled for next week.”

“And?”

“Even if he performs the reversal, the probability of success is low.” He cleared his throat. “Since the procedure was done almost ten years ago, the chance of pregnancy is thirty percent. There’s a possibility of antibodies, scar tissue, and a secondary blockage point.”

“I didn’t realize it was so complicated.”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “It’s far more complicated than I expected. But it’s a credit to the doctor that he was thorough in his explanation. He also forbade me to smoke.”