My Gift To You Page 2

  With a heavy sigh, and without understanding the reason for her capitulation, Livvy took the key out of her pocket and dropped it into his outstretched palm.

  He turned around, walked back to her apartment, and opened the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he cocked his head to the right. “Coming?” he asked, walking inside.

  Livvy’s hands formed into fists, and her chest burned. She’d thought him arrogant the previous day. This morning, his arrogance was on bloody steroids.

  When she stepped into her apartment, he’d already opened the fridge, removed a carton of orange juice, and was pouring some into a glass that had been draining on the side of the sink. He extended the glass of juice towards her.

  Unbelievably, she found herself taking it from him. “Thanks.” She took a swig. “I need to shower.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” She stalked to the door and opened it, inclining her head. “Out.”

  He smirked, and for an awful moment, she thought he wasn’t going to leave. She began running scenarios in her head for how to deal with the situation, when he shrugged.

  “Okay. I’ll wait outside.” He clipped her under the chin as he passed then pulled the door closed behind him.

  For a few moments, Livvy stared at the door. Who was this guy? His overfamiliarity towards her was more than a little unnerving. Maybe that was why she felt so wrong footed. Or perhaps it was his composure and poise that was throwing her off.

  She jumped into the shower and let the cool water wash over her. She stood there for a minute or so, trying to put her scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. Less than twenty-four hours ago, they’d met at Sam’s, and she was certain she hadn’t told him her name. Or had she? God, it was so hard to remember. Regardless, her name was one thing; her address was quite another. Had he followed her home after she left the bar? No, he couldn’t have. Yet there he was. What could he possibly want?

  She dried herself off and quickly dressed. Maybe he hadn’t stuck around. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and peered through the crack. Damn, he was still there, lounging against the wall, tapping on his cell phone. As if sensing her scrutiny, he lifted his head and met her eyes, an amused expression curving his lips. He gestured towards the door with his chin, his instruction clear.

  Livvy ground her teeth and opened it fully. “Signing in to stalkersRus.com?” she asked.

  His answering smile could have turned the hardest of hearts to mush. “No. They cancelled my account for using it too much. Feeling better?”

  She held her breath as a warm feeling swarmed through her veins, and her fingertips tingled with an urge to touch, to explore. Grimacing as guilt slammed into her, she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her reaction to Gabe was purely physical, nothing more. No need to get all of a dither. He was simply a good-looking guy. And that smile…

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Good.” He sidled past her before she could stop him. “Would you like another glass of juice or water?”

  Was this her apartment or his?

  “No, I’m fine. What are you doing here, Mr…”

  He cocked an eyebrow. He knew that she was faking her lack of memory. “I’m here to see you, Olivia.”

  She refrained from telling him she preferred Livvy to the much stuffier Olivia. He didn’t need any more encouragement. “How do you know who I am and where I live?”

  He shrugged. “As I said before, it wasn’t very hard to find out.” He gestured for her to sit, which totally pissed her off. Even so, she obeyed, glowering at him as he plunked himself down beside her.

  “You rushed off so quickly yesterday, just as we were starting to get to know each other. You left me no choice.” His jade-green eyes twinkled. “Despite your absolute certainty we would never see each other again, here we are.”

  His light repartee gave her goose bumps. He was teasing her, but she wasn’t in the mood to banter. Still struggling to come to terms with her reaction to him, the last thing she needed was to share a joke. She needed him gone.

  She snatched the glass of orange juice from his hand and slammed it on the table. A little spilled over the top. “You’ve got a bloody cheek. You turn up here, unannounced and uninvited. You take over my home, put your feet up on my sodding table, and help yourself to my juice. I don’t even know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”

  He took his feet off the table and fixed her with a long, intense stare. “But I want to know you,” he said finally.

  “Do you always get what you want?” she asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her tone.

  He shrugged. “Mostly.” Then he grinned. His teeth were straight and white, probably designed by an expensive orthodontist. “And what do you want, Olivia?” he asked quietly.

  “I’d like you to leave,” she hit back.

  Those green eyes settled on hers again, firm yet kind, determined yet soothing. He rubbed his chin. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “If you must.” She hated the sarcastic tone to her voice but needed the protection it offered.

  His lips twitched up again. Clearly her snotty attitude wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. He tilted his body forward, and Livvy fought the urge to lean back.

  “When I met you yesterday and you looked at me, your eyes were so sad even though you were clearly pissed off. I found myself wanting to see them smile. And I will… if you give me a chance. I don’t know why you’re unhappy, but I’d love the chance to put the sparkle back into those baby blues of yours.”

  Livvy’s nostrils flared as she breathed out heavily. She clenched her hands into fists, holding them close to her sides so one wouldn’t shoot out and hit him on his perfectly square chin. Who the hell did this guy think he was? And the worst thing was he’d seen straight through her armor. How he’d managed to achieve that wasn’t a question she wanted to examine too closely.

  “I’m fine,” she said between gritted teeth.

  Gabe shook his head. He captured a lock of her hair and slowly fed it through his fingers. Livvy held her breath, unsure what her next move should be. Should she knock his hand away? Tell him—no, order him—to leave? Instead, she sat there like a deer in the headlights, allowing him to touch her.

  “No, you’re not. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman on the outside, but inside, you’re an empty shell. You can’t be happy living like that, just existing. Don’t you want to feel vibrant, alive?”

  Livvy jerked her head back, freeing her hair from his long, lean fingers. “Who do you think you are? I am perfectly happy with my life, thank you.”

  “Don’t lie,” he said. “You’re not very good at it.”

  Livvy launched to her feet, strode across the room, and flung open the door. “I want you to go.”

  Gabe slowly eased himself to a standing position. He looked down at her, and their considerable height difference gave her the shivers. “If you give me a chance, I will change your life for the better. A lot better.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked with a sneer.

  “Well, I don’t lack confidence if that’s what you mean.” He was teasing her again, a mischievous grin sending his full lips curving upward. He really was stunning—so stunning that Livvy wondered why he was there, wasting his time with her. He had to have an ulterior motive. What would a guy like him want with a girl like her? She was only half a person, and despite the great strides she’d made since that drunk driver wrecked her life almost two years earlier, she still had a hell of a long way to go.

  “Why me? You don’t even know me.”

  He blinked several times and rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I feel a connection to you, and I have no clue where it’s coming from. It hit me like a truck yesterday in the bar. I really wasn’t expecting it. I’m not in the habit of tracking down beautiful English girls I don’t know and offering to be some sort of emotional crutch. But there’s something about you—
I can’t put my finger on it—and I know that if you let me in there, let me past the armor you’re using to protect yourself, I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

  His honesty disarmed her, and when his hand came up to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes, she stilled. “You feel it too, don’t you, Olivia?” he murmured.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

  A faint smile touched his lips. “How about dinner tonight? No strings. Sound good?”

  “No. It sounds completely crazy.”

  Gabe laughed, the sound rumbling deep and low in his chest. “Don’t you eat?” There he went again with the teasing.

  Despite a burgeoning smile that threatened to emerge, Livvy kept her face straight. “Yes, I eat.”

  “So let me buy you dinner. What harm could it do?” When she remained silent, Gabe continued. “I’m very persistent, so it might be better—and definitely less exhausting—to give in now. I’m offering steak and salad, not whips and chains.”

  His comment finally made her break a smile, and before she knew it, she accepted his invitation. “Fine.”

  “Great,” he said with a quick glance at his watch. “I have to go. I’ll pick you up here at eight.”

  He strode across her apartment as if she had just been acquired in a business deal. Now that she’d signed on the dotted line, it felt as though he’d lost interest. She wrapped her arms around her body. What on earth had she agreed to?

  “Dress for a nice restaurant,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked through the door. Then he was gone.

  Agog, Livvy sank into the space Gabe had recently vacated. The fabric still felt warm from his body heat. She’d been railroaded, and yet she wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. Still, she could always cancel… Damn, she didn’t have his number. Then again, he’d found her, so surely she could find him.

  She grabbed her computer, opened Google, typed “Gabe Mitchell” into the toolbar, and hit return.

  Hundreds of pages were returned in a nanosecond.

  Gabe Mitchell: Five things you may not know about the business tycoon.

  Gabe Mitchell breaks into the Forbes top-ten list of the richest people in the world.

  Gabe Mitchell and Tabitha Hale finally call it quits.

  60 Minutes with tech tycoon Gabe Mitchell.

  Another sultry brunette on the arm of business leader Gabe Mitchell.

  That was why he’d looked familiar. He was one of America’s top businessmen. But unlike a lot of CEOs that preferred to conduct their business behind closed doors, Gabe Mitchell sought out media attention, and, in the States at least, he was seen as more of a celebrity than a businessman.

  Livvy clicked on the last story and was faced with hundreds of images of Gabe at various events, with different beautiful women dripping off his arm. She looked closely and noticed that he was very rarely seen with the same woman twice. About two years ago, he’d had a serious relationship with someone called Tabitha Hale. Since their breakup, Gabe looked as though he’d had nothing more than a long series of temporary distractions.

  A chill crept up her spine. Gabe Mitchell was a womanizer, a man who chewed through women like candy. And he’d set his sights on her.

  Oh shit. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter Three

  Gabe smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt before running the same hand down the back of his head. Women didn’t make him nervous, so why the hell was his stomach fluttering as if a swarm of butterflies had set up home?

  He knocked on Olivia’s apartment door and waited. The chain rattled, and as she opened it, those damn butterflies went crazy, their wings quivering against the walls of his stomach.

  “Hi.” She met his gaze. “You’re right on time.”

  “Olivia.” His eyes skimmed over her from head to foot. “You look lovely.”

  “Thanks. You look… nice,” she mumbled.

  He grinned. “Wow, nice. One of my favorite adjectives.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Let me grab my purse, and then we can go, if that’s all right?”

  “Take your time.”

  As she turned around, his eyes fell to her ass swaying beneath the mint-green flared dress she’d chosen, and his stomach jolted. The style of the dress was casual, but paired with sparkling silver four-inch heels that enhanced her shapely legs, she’d more than met his instructions.

  Gabe held out his hand, indicating that she should go on ahead, and together, they strolled to the elevator in companionable silence.

  “I hope you like Italian food,” he said, pushing the button for the third time.

  “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  “Good. I’m taking you to my favorite Italian restaurant. It’s off the beaten path, but the food is outstanding.” He pushed the elevator button once more.

  “It doesn’t do any good, you know.”

  He looked down at her and frowned. “What doesn’t do any good?”

  “Pushing the call button over and over. It’ll get here when it gets here.”

  The elevator dinged to signal its arrival, and the door slowly shuddered open. Gabe stared at her in mock horror. “Is it safe?”

  “Safe, but slow,” she replied with a giggle. “Although I have gotten stuck in here once or twice.”

  “Is that so?” He raised one eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure we’ll think of some way to pass the time if we get stuck tonight.”

  A beautiful flush crept up her neck, inching over her cheeks. Jesus, she was adorable. She wasn’t a virgin—his experience had taught him that—yet she gave off a pure and honest air that was enchanting.

  After an interminable wait, the elevator reached the ground floor, and the door jerked open. Gabe caught Olivia’s hand in his and strode across the parking lot. As he unlocked the car, he caught her surprised expression. “What?”

  Olivia’s brow creased. “This is your car?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  She shook her head. “I imagined something more… pretentious.”

  He laughed. “You pictured a Ferrari?”

  She chuckled. “Maybe. I definitely didn’t picture an SUV.”

  He helped her climb in, and after he slid behind the wheel, he gave her a quick glance as he fired up the engine. “I thought this type of car might make you feel more comfortable.”

  Her eyes widened, and then she smiled. “Read minds, do you?”

  He tried to ignore what her smile did to his insides as he pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the highway. Once they were underway, he put his hand on her knee. When she almost jumped through the roof of the car, he quickly removed his hand.

  “You’re safe with me, Olivia, I promise you.”

  A frown drifted across her face before she smoothed her expression. “I know.”

  “Good.”

  Twenty minutes later, he turned onto a gravel driveway and parked the car in front of a rectangular sign—Giovanni’s Ristorante.

  “Stay there,” Gabe ordered as he got out of the car and walked around to her side. He opened her door and helped her out then once again took her hand in his.

  “Is this okay?” he asked as they strolled to the entrance, nodding to where their fingers were knitted together as he tried to ignore how good it felt to touch her. It was one dinner. Nothing more.

  She nodded, and relief rushed through him as he led her into the restaurant. He loved coming to Giovanni’s. The inside was dimly lit, giving it an air of intimacy, and there were only twelve tables, which meant that it wasn’t full of people. Olivia was skittish so he needed to take things slow and easy with her. A busy restaurant filled with people he knew, who would probably ask pointed questions about his date, wasn’t the way to go.

  “Gabe? Is it really my old friend Gabe Mitchell?” Giovanni clapped him on the back several times. “I saw your name in the bookings, and I thought, no, it can’t be! He hasn’t been to see his buddy Giovanni for such a long time.�
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  “As usual, Giovanni, you bend the truth. I’ve been working overseas, so it’s difficult to fly back just for a bowl of your delicious pasta.”

  Giovanni grinned broadly. “Non importa.” He turned his gaze to Olivia. “Well, well, and who is this beautiful lady?”

  “Giovanni, this is Olivia Hayes. Olivia, this is Giovanni Tortorici. He owns this place.”

  “Bella, Olivia.” Giovanni enthusiastically grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Welcome to my restaurant. Come, come this way, I have the best table for you.”

  He began to walk away, still holding Olivia’s hand, until Gabe stopped him and gently gripped his forearm. Giovanni grinned, understanding, and with a bow, released her. He led them to the very back—a private table hidden from the rest of the diners by a wall of fake foliage. Giovanni pulled out one of the chairs with a flourish and gestured for her to sit down.

  “Sit, sit, bella Olivia. I have a very special evening prepared for you.” He unfolded a napkin and, with a flick of his wrist, laid it in her lap.

  “What would you like to drink, Olivia?” Gabe said.

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  “A bottle of Barolo and two orders of the fettuccini alfredo.” Then as an afterthought, he turned to her. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Sounds lovely.”

  He nodded. “Good. Giovanni makes the best pasta in the West.”

  Giovanni grinned widely, pleased with the compliment. “Coming right up.”

  Before they had time to say more than a couple of words, Giovanni returned and poured their wine. Then with a cheerful, “Enjoy, amici,” he left them alone.

  Olivia sipped her wine, and Gabe couldn’t help but notice a slight tremor to her hand as her lips pressed against the glass. He found it difficult to drag his eyes away from her mouth, but when she noticed him checking her out, she gave him a tight smile.

  “Don’t be nervous. I don’t bite. Well, not on a first date, anyway,” he added with a wicked grin.

  A flash of anguish crossed her face. “It’s not a date. It’s dinner.”