The Billionaire's Matchmaker(15)

“Sounds like a great opportunity.”

“It was. But I blew it when I got into an argument with the head of the committee. Do you remember Richard Wilkins? He thought his money gave him power, and he kept dictating what he wanted me to do. I got all indignant and rebellious, and instead of painting what they wanted and I…I painted a mural that didn’t exactly put the town or the Convention and Visitors Bureau in a flattering light. I painted Wilkins with a pile of empty beer cans, Mark Napier with his mistress on his arm, and Joe Sampson wearing a dress.”

“Oh. Oh wow. That is pretty daring.”

“No, pretty stupid. I was angry and blasted that in public, rather than being professional and doing the job I was hired to do. I just felt like Wilkins was trying to control me with all that money. Plus, my grandma died the week before, and I think I was just not in a good place after losing her, because she was more of a mom to me than my own mom. The critics crucified me, and for a while there I thought the town council might run me out of Chandler’s Cove.”

“What did you do?”

“Holed up in my apartment, ate a lot of ice cream, and watched a lot of movies. I figured I was done as an artist. I’d blown it, let my idiocy and my stubbornness take control. Then I got an email from a gallery owner in Chicago who had seen the image on the web. She said that my work was exciting. Different. She wanted more. I finally took a good hard look at myself and I grew up, got a clue, and realized what I’d done. I went down there and repainted the mural. Turned it into an image of a park. With a creek.”

“Our creek,” he said.

She nodded, but didn’t hold his gaze. “Our creek.”

He took a step closer. “I saw it. That day I went downtown to grab your ad. It’s a beautiful mural.”

“Thank you.”

“So you regrouped, made it right,” he said. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, but I’m still worried about messing up again, which is why sending the wrong email got me so upset. It was a small thing, and I need to learn to chill a little better. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

He helped her to her feet, then tipped her chin until she was looking at him. “On a scale of one to expelled…”

That made her smile. “I don’t think I can get expelled anymore.”

“Then it’s all good. And fixable. It’ll be fine, Gabby.”

A little laugh escaped her and lit her eyes. Gabby cocked her head and studied him. “How can you still do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me forget. No matter how bad my day was or how awful I was feeling, you always had this way of making me forget. Forget what’s bothering me. Forget what scares me. Forget…” She shook her head and let out a soft curse. “In a few words, you have this way of making it all…okay.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Though he wanted more than that and had for a long, long time. He wasn’t on this trip with Gabby to see if he should forget her. He’d come to see if she loved him like he’d always loved her.

“Is that what we are?” she asked. “Friends?”

“Are we?”

The two-word question hung in the air. Hell, the question had sat between them for years, ever since the day they’d met. There’d always been this magnet that drew him to her, a magnet he’d attributed to her being so different from him, so wild, so unpredictable. When really, what he wanted more than anything was Gabby herself.

“I think we’ve always been more than that,” he said. He reached up, let his hand trail along her jaw. Her eyes widened, and her pulse leapt in her throat. “Don’t you?”

“T.J….” She turned away. “I don’t think we should take this any further. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Okay.” He lowered his hand.

A heartbeat passed, another. The temperature rose, heating the space between them. She caught his hand with hers, her fingers warm and tight against his. “I want you,” she said softly. “But I’m so afraid. Of a thousand things, of making a mistake.”

“Oh, Gabby.” Her name slid from his lips, part groan, part whisper. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

A long slow smile curved across her face. She splayed her fingers, pressed her hand on his chest. Her touch trailed down the front of his shirt, skipping over the buttons, dancing along the ridges of muscle beneath the cotton fabric. “You’ve changed.”

“We both have. We’ve grown up.” His attention drifted to her curves and the desire that had been on a slow simmer began to burn hotter, brighter.

She laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “I don’t know if I have. But you have grown up. In very nice ways.” A flush of pink invaded her cheeks, nearly as bright as the streak in her hair.

“I’m not that geek you remember.”

“No, T.J., you definitely aren’t. But underneath it all, I think you’re still the same guy. You’re down to earth and honest. At your core, you’re the T.J. I remember. I’ve missed that person a lot.”

“You missed me?”

“More than I realized. You’ve always…tempered me. Brought out the best in me.”