Finding Isadora(9)

He might look the opposite of fatherly, but it occurred to me that he had shown concern for his son, in worrying I might cheat on Richard. I hadn’t expected that. “It’s nice of you to be protective of Richard.”

His face tightened. “You’re surprised.”

“I…”

“Never mind. You don’t have to answer. I’m sure Richard’s told you what a bad father I am.”

No tactful response occurred to me, so I remained silent.

He smiled slightly, without humor. “Let’s start over. I’m pleased to meet you, Isadora. Please call me Gabriel. Or Gabe. I answer to both.”

Names are significant and, though Richard called him Gabe, I didn’t think the name suited him nearly as well as Gabriel. The angel Gabriel? More like the devil. Still, I said, “I like Gabriel,” then winced at the unintended double meaning.

The corners of his smile tilted wryly. “Not so much at the moment, I’d guess, but maybe I’ll grow on you.”

“I meant your name.” Damn, he knew that. Why was I acting so gauche?

“I like Isadora.” He paused. “Your name.” His eyes were twinkling, but with humor rather than flirtatiousness.

He held out his hand and I glanced down. Like the rest of him, it was dark and well-shaped. I had to force myself to lift mine to meet it. When we shook, his clasp was firm and warm and made my skin tingle. I snatched my hand back.

“Richard tells me you’re a vet.” His voice sounded a bit gruff and I wondered if he, too, had felt that disconcerting tingle.

“Yes. In the West End. I’m a small animal vet.” Another stupid comment. “Not that there’d be much market for a large animal vet in the West End,” I added, compounding my idiocy.

“Police horses?”

The thought brought a smile. “They do stop by regularly, but for social, not professional, visits. We feed them carrots.” The Vancouver Police Department had a Mounted Unit that, among other things, patrolled Stanley Park and the West End.

“I’ve seen them a few times. Beautiful animals.”

“They’re gorgeous. And such a mix. Standardbreds, Quarterhorses, a Clydesdale/Appaloosa cross, a Percheron/Morgan and—” I shook my head. “Sorry, too much information.”

“No, it’s interesting. They were bred for police work?”

“No, they all have different histories. Pal-o-Mine was a cattle horse, Sunset Bay did show jumping and dressage, Tomboy was a harness racer.”

“You know them all by name?”

“Of course. Don’t you know all your friends by name?”

He chuckled, then tilted his head and studied me. “You’re a real animal lover?”

“I can’t think of an animal I don’t like.” I reflected for a moment. “Nope, not a one. I’m not impressed when wasps sting, but it’s just their nature, and they’re insects anyhow, not animals.”

When I saw the grin on his face I realized that, for the first time in his company, I had actually relaxed. The notion made me tense up again, as did my sudden awareness that the room was now almost empty. “We should find Richard.”

“I suggested the two of you join my table. He can meet some of the Board members. They’ll make good contacts for him.”

“And after all, Richard’s here to work,” I said ruefully as, side by side, we walked toward the banquet room.

“More power to him. All I care about is the size of the donation his firm makes.”

The words didn’t ring true. I had a sneaking suspicion he actually cared about helping Richard. Maybe Gabriel wasn’t the unloving father Richard believed him to be.

Gabriel gestured toward the front of the room, indicating I should go first. As I threaded my way among the tables and a few still-milling guests, I said, over my shoulder, “The Multicultural Center is a wonderful organization.”

“You know the Center?”

“Of course. In fact an assistant at my clinic is one of their success stories.” I glanced back again and caught him staring at my shoulders, which were bare but for a narrow black strap on each side.

My flesh tingled, just as my hand had when he shook it. I cleared my throat. “I was wondering why none of the Center’s clients are here. The ones like Martin. Your donors could see concrete examples of the great work the Center does.”

“Good idea. We should have thought of it.”

I flushed, pleased I’d finally said something moderately intelligent. “Martin would be perfect. He’s had a rough life but has completely turned it around. He’ll start university in the fall, and plans to be a vet, so we’re—”

A hand gripped my arm and I jumped.

“There you are, Iz,” Richard said. He shot his father a dark look. “I thought Gabe had kidnapped you.”

“I … we were just…” I stammered.

“Isadora,” Gabriel rescued me, “take the seat beside Richard.”

Richard rose to hold my chair and I settled myself between him and a thin, aging woman in a long-sleeved, high-necked black dress who reminded me of a crow. Gabriel sat on her other side. It was a relief to have someone between him and me.

Gabriel made the introductions, referring to me as his son’s fiancée, Isadora. I noted that crow-woman was on the Board of the Center, one of the men was the Chair, and another woman was the Director. Everyone had brought a spouse or date except the drab woman in black. And Gabriel.