Finding Isadora(111)

“Do you know what it did to me,” he murmured against my ear, “looking at you all afternoon and knowing I’d kissed you here?” He trailed kisses down my throat and I quivered at his touch.

“And here.” He circled my nipple with his tongue and teased it between his lips, and sparks of sensation darted through me.

Then he traveled south again, following the path of those sparks. “And here.” His voice was barely audible as he buried his face between my thighs. I squirmed against his probing caress, feeling sensation build. Wanting him, needing him.

He stopped and lifted his head to send me one of those intense looks that turned my insides to liquid fire. “And knowing I was going to do it all over again.”

He dived down again, and plunged his tongue inside me, and I came apart.





Chapter 17


When we finally made it out of bed, we checked the reporter’s story online, then Gabe called him to apologize for being incommunicado, and to thank him. When we headed out for dinner, this time it was Jack Luce’s face, not my father’s, staring up from the glass-fronted box.

“I can’t believe it’s over.” I wrapped my arm around Gabriel’s waist as we strolled toward Commercial Drive. “You saved Jimmy Lee and he doesn’t even realize it.”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “Not me, that reporter. Especially when he found out about the violations of those environmental regs.” He hugged me close. “And don’t forget, you’re the one who first had the idea to focus on Cosmystiques themselves.”

His words reminded me of something. “I was going to see Cassie today.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

“Not about the arson, but I do want to meet her and talk to her about Alyssa.”

“She’ll be out of the hospital in a day or two, and staying at your parents’. I’m looking forward to meeting her. She’s sure got a great kid.”

“Yes, she does.” The kind I’d like to have myself, one day. With Gabriel.

We turned onto Commercial. “The restaurant’s down here a couple of blocks,” he said.

“Am I dressed all right?” I asked, suddenly nervous. When I’d thrown on capris and a T-shirt back in my apartment, I’d been in such a hurry I hadn’t thought about going out for dinner.

“It’s not fancy, just a little neighborhood place. Maria is Portuguese.”

“Maria?” Portuguese Maria? Wait a minute! “Gabriel, is this the woman you mentioned before? The one who was a friend of your mother’s?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, great! No doubt she was old-fashioned, conservative. I should’ve worn a skirt. This was my first introduction to Gabriel’s personal life and I wanted this woman to approve of me.

I pulled away to study Gabriel. A black T-shirt and black jeans. A panther. Damn the man, why did he have to look so good in everything he wore?

But he was my panther. The thought gave me confidence and I snuggled close again.

He gave me a squeeze, then turned me into a restaurant entrance and opened the door. I took a deep breath then stepped through. The room, a tiny rectangle, was appealing with warm yellow walls, posters of Portugal, trailing greenery, and the delicious aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

A stout, gray-haired woman bustled forward. Old-fashioned and conservative? Yes and no, to gauge from her appearance. Her strong features bore no make-up, her hair was in a simple bun, and her dress was ash-gray and plain, but her silver and gold First Nations jewelry was stunning.

I had plenty of time to notice the details because Maria was occupied with hugging Gabriel, pinching his cheek, and babbling enthusiastically with him in Portuguese. I stood and watched.

Finally, she turned to me. She inspected me carefully, eyes bright with curiosity, then she reached out for my hands and squeezed them.

“Maria,” Gabriel said, “may I present Isadora Dean Wheeler. Isadora, this is Maria Russ.”

Russ? It didn’t sound like a Portuguese name. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Russ,” I said, guessing this was a woman who’d take “Ms.” as an insult.

“Isadora.” Her pronunciation rivaled Gabriel’s in turning my name into a thing of beauty. “I am Maria. We will not be formal. You are family now.”

Family? I didn’t dare look at Gabriel.

“In all the years since Gabriel and Diane separated,” Maria said, “all the times he is here—two, three times a week—never has he brought a girl home. And now you.”

Home? The truth sank in. Maria was a surrogate mother to Gabriel.

“And now you,” he echoed.

I turned to him, saw the glow in his eyes, and realized it was his confession of love. Whether he realized it or not.

I wanted to hug him, but it might have made him pause and think about what he’d said, and maybe pull back. Instead, I hugged Maria. “Thank you. I’m honored to be here, and so happy to meet you.”

She squeezed me tightly, then turned to Gabriel and let loose with another tumble of melodious Portuguese.

“What?” I asked him.

He didn’t quite meet my eyes when he replied. “Uh, she says you’re lovely, and exactly what she would have chosen for me.”

“And then I say,” Maria added, staring at him accusingly, “that it is past time he found a good woman and settled down and had more babies.”