She heard him shift once more, as if to get more comfortable. Sitting on the bed, frozen in disbelief, she managed to sputter, “You’re not planning to stay here the night, are you?”
He made a move with his head that she couldn’t see but rustled the pillow.
“Garrett, you moron, go to your room,” she said, shoving at his arm a little.
He caught her hand and squeezed it. “Relax, you little witch. I’ll go back to my room when I stop spinning. Come here and brace me down.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his side, and Kate was too stunned to do anything but play rag doll.
Minutes passed as she remained utterly still, every part of her body excruciatingly aware of his powerful arm. Garrett was not the touchy-feely brother; that was Julian. In fact, Garrett seemed to do his best not to touch her. But his guard was down and he seemed not to want to let go this time.
She frowned when he tightened his hold and slid his fingers up beneath the fall of her hair. Cupping her scalp, he pressed her face down to his chest.
“Garrett,” Kate said, poking on his abs. They were hard as rocks under his shirt.
He breathed heavily. Oh, no. Seriously. Was he asleep?
“Garrett?”
She groaned when there was no response and wondered if she should move into Garrett’s room and leave him to sleep here, because she was certainly not dragging him to his own room. He must weigh double what she did, even if he was all muscle, judging from the hardness of the arm around her and the abs she’d just poked.
Instead, she grumbled and complained under her breath, and ended up using her pillow as a barrier between them. She eased his arm from around her, setting it on the pillow. His hand was enormous between her fingers, and for a moment, she seemed to be unable to let go, kept her hand over his just to feel that he was not a figment of her imagination. Then she realized what she was doing and that it was stupid and foolish, and she yanked her hand away.
Damn him.
He was going to do everything possible to keep her in Texas, she knew.
But he wasn’t going to take Florida away from her.
Oh, no, her life had stopped revolving around Garrett Gage ever since she’d decided she didn’t want him anymore, and now she’d be damned before she let him screw up her perfect plans, too.
Three
Monday morning, business at the San Antonio Daily was more intense than normal.
Usually Landon, the eldest Gage brother, would bark about the grammar mistakes in that day’s print edition. Julian John, the youngest, was no longer working at headquarters since he’d started his own PR firm, but he still occasionally dropped in and offered his services in weekly status meetings. Lately, Garrett had been focused on maneuvering their assets to make one of their greatest takeovers, one that would absorb Clarks Communications into the Daily and the rest of their holdings.
Which was why Cassandra Clarks was visiting today. She sat in Garrett’s office, quietly eating the remaining muffin from the batch Kate had sent to the office this morning.
It made Garrett grumpy to see that muffin go.
But he feigned indifference as he flipped to the next page of the current stock statistics for Clarks Communications. Still, he wasn’t really paying attention to their impressive growth numbers. Instead, he kept going back to Saturday night and Sunday morning.
He’d woken up alone, dressed in the most uncomfortable way possible, with a stiff back and the scent of Kate in bed, which had made him hard as marble.
Then he’d realized he was lying on Kate’s old, frilly pink bed. Which he’d apparently decided to take over during the night while on a semidrunken spree.
Damn.
He’d immediately texted her Sunday morning, and even now, he kept glancing at his phone, replaying their conversation.
Sorry for crashing in last night.
You mean that was you? That’s all right, at least u didn’t break anything.
But my pride. And my back.
Ouch. Ok, but it’s nothing my muffins won’t cure.
Holy hell. Was she flirting with him?
I’m going to savor every bite.
He wasn’t sure if he’d been flirting, too. Savor every bite. The alcohol had still been running through his system, clearly messing up his head. Thank God Kate hadn’t replied after that last one. But she’d sent a dozen muffins this morning and he had gobbled three up with barely a drink of coffee. His experience with Kate’s food was almost sexual.
He couldn’t help it; it had always been like this since the beginning.
The first time she’d made chocolate-chip cookies on her own, Garrett had been fresh out of bed on a Sunday in his randy teen years. He’d been scouring the kitchen for breakfast and had shoved a warm cookie into his mouth, nodding when she’d asked if it was good. Then Kate had laughingly stepped up and brushed a crumb from the side of his mouth, and he’d almost swallowed the cookie whole.
Sometimes he waited until he was alone to eat her stuff. And he imagined he was licking her fingers when he wrapped his tongue around her sugary frostings. And when they had little sprinkles, he pictured her freckles.
He really should look into therapy.
Suddenly he heard Landon sigh and slap his copy of the report shut, and he was jerked back to the present.
“So if your brother is still not aware of our plans,” he asked Cassandra, “why are you chickening out on selling?” The chair creaked as he leaned back, folding his arms over his chest.
Cassandra Clarks may have had the appearance of a blonde bombshell, but behind that “bimbo” facade, Garrett had learned, there was actually a brain. The woman was not only smart, but about as flexible on her terms as a damned wall.
Today she exuded casual confidence, slowly shaking her head as Landon explained his position.
“We’re supposed to keep buying the stock until we get over twenty percent,” Landon told her. “In a week, two at most, your brother’s company will be ours before he even realizes we’re in bed with him. No pun intended.”
“None taken,” Cassandra said, eyeing Landon judiciously as she finally stopped shaking her head and allowed him to continue.
“Once we secure your remaining thirty-two percent, it puts us in control, and it leaves you a very wealthy woman, Cassie.”
“That’s the problem. My brother will know I sold to you. He will destroy me and anything else I have,” she said, her entire countenance clouded with worry. “What I wanted to propose to Garrett on Saturday before he cut me short was a marriage of convenience. My brother has control of my stake in the company now, but if I marry, he won’t have control over financial decisions regarding my stake anymore. My husband can take over the shares and compensate me discreetly. It would be an easy arrangement, and over in six months, where we’ll both happily walk away with what we want. Me with my money, you with the stock.”