Finding Isadora(87)

He shook his head. “If you ever decide to go to law school, I’ll hire you when you come out.”

Though I knew he was teasing, I was flattered. “Not me. I’d rather work with animals than people. They’re nicer.”

“But not as challenging.”

I studied his profile. “And you like a challenge?”

He sent me one of those smoldering Gabriel-glances. “I suppose I must.” And, that quickly, we were back on dangerous ground.

He turned into the last parking lot and pulled into a vacant spot. “Let’s walk.”

Trying to stumble back to safe ground, I said, “You’re not telling me not to visit Cassie.”

He swung out the driver’s side and I eased out the passenger side. It was cooler here by the ocean, and the breeze had a fresh tang. I breathed in gratefully as Gabriel came around the car.

“Would I dare tell you what you can and can’t do?” he said. “But, Isadora, be careful.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” He touched my shoulder briefly, then thrust both hands into the pockets of his jeans.





Chapter 13


As I took my first step away from the car, I knew I was walking not just to the beach, but into unfamiliar territory. Tonight, in some way I couldn’t predict, things were going to change between Gabriel and me.

We had to talk. I couldn’t carry on the way I had been, all confused and conflicted.

Maybe Gabriel felt the same need to clarify where we stood. Perhaps that’s why he’d suggested this walk. Except, right now he was striding across the parking lot at a great pace with both hands jammed in his pockets. I hurried to catch up.

When we reached the sand, he stopped to yank off his sandals and I did the same, then we started walking, heading east. The beach was wilder than the neatly groomed one at English Bay: coarse sand, rocks and pebbles, logs tossed up by stormy waters and situated perfectly for watching the sunset.

And yes, the sun was starting to set, the sky above us a lush blend of peach and pink. Across the water, sun glinted gold off the windows of high apartment towers in the West End, dazzling my eyes. The ocean-scented breeze twirled my floaty skirt around my legs like the unfurling petals of a giant red poppy. The tangy odor tingled in my nostrils and I sucked it in greedily.

We didn’t take advantage of one of the strategically placed logs. Instead, beside me, Gabriel plowed through the sand with one hand in his pocket, his sandals dangling from the other, as hurried and preoccupied as if he were on his way to court. I glanced at him from under my lashes. He wasn’t even watching the sunset, he was staring down at the beach in front of his feet.

The golden city deserved appreciation, I thought, and so I focused on it and tried to calm the anxiety that quivered through my body. But Gabriel’s presence, his tension, made it impossible for me to relax.

I needed to talk to him about our relationship, but in this mood he seemed unapproachable. “Sometimes I think I don’t know you at all.” The words burst out of me. Oh god, I sounded petulant and childish.

He broke stride, took one slow step forward, then stopped. I stopped too, watching his rigid back. After a moment he turned and tilted his head. “What do you want to know?” His voice was rough, his gaze piercing.

I want to know how you feel about me. The words choked in my throat and I couldn’t answer him.

He tilted his head. “I can guess. And you’re scared to ask, aren’t you? You know you won’t like the answer.”

What did he mean? Was the answer that he was attracted to me, or that he wasn’t? Which would I prefer? It didn’t matter; I had to know. “Tell me,” I demanded.

He gave a ragged chuckle. “You stuck your shoulders back and your chin out. Did you know that?”

I tried to laugh, too. “Preparing myself. You made it sound kind of … scary.”

“It is. But you already know that. When you asked the question back at the apartment, your read the answer on my face.”

At the apartment? Now he’d lost me completely.

And then, in a rush, I remembered. When my parents had confessed to arson, I’d asked Gabriel if he’d ever done something so bad. And he had. He was right, he’d told me the answer without saying a word.

While I’d been obsessing over whether we had the hots for each other, he’d been wondering whether I’d push him to confess his past crimes.

I wanted to laugh, or cry, or hit him. Damn, but the man was frustrating. Then I refocused. Was he going to tell me what he’d done?

In a silky, dangerous tone, he said, “You’re always after me to open up, to share things. I’ll tell you about this if you really want to know. And if you promise never to tell Richard, or anyone else.”

He was making me complicit. Maybe asking me to conceal a crime. A shiver trembled across my skin, making me aware that I’d left my cardigan in the car and wore only a tan-colored tank top above my breeze-tossed skirt.

This wasn’t the conversation I’d imagined us having out here as the sun flamed the sky and lovers strolled by. And yet, I did want to know. I wanted to know everything about him, everything that mattered to him, everything that had made him the incredible man he was today. I hugged my arms around myself and slowly nodded.

“You may never want to speak to me again.”