couldn’t exactly be seen running around with him if she didn’t want to be the center of all the gossip in Vengeance for months to come.
“Face facts, Gabe. The press will come after me as hard or harder than they go after James. Women in these situations always have their reputations dragged through the mud. And now, I’m going to drag my father’s Senate seat through the mud, too. I owe it to his memory not to do that.”
“You don’t owe your father a damned thing. He’s dead.” The elevator dinged and the door slid open to punctuate his forceful statement.
Stunned at the blunt honesty of Gabe’s observation, she stared at his back as he stalked off the elevator and crossed a small lobby toward the lone door opening off it. She ought to be furious with him for speaking such a travesty aloud, but a tiny part of her couldn’t deny that the man spoke the truth. Her father didn’t care anymore about his Senate seat or his precious reputation.
Gabe grasped the long, tubular, metal door handle for several seconds. A red beam of light flashed out of an aperture in the stainless-steel door, startling Willa as it swept across Gabe’s face. A click, and the door opened under his hand.
“Latest in biometric scanning,” he commented as he threw the door wide for her.
She followed cautiously. Lights went on around them automatically as Gabe moved through the foyer and several steps down into a large living room. The first features she noticed were the floor-to-ceiling glass windows lining the entire far side of the open space. Drawn to the magnificent vista outside, she strolled over to take it in.
The Dallas skyline sprawled at her feet, like a steel meadow full of twinkling white lights. The narrow, modern arch of the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge glowed white, spanning the Trinity River in the distance. Cool air blew down silently on her from vents overhead, and Willa hugged herself, chilled. As beautiful as it was, the view was distant and impersonal. Cold.
Her politeness as ingrained as always, though, she commented, “Nice view. But don’t you feel a little exposed with all these windows?”
“We’re on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city, and it’s one-way glass. We have complete privacy.”
The notion of having complete privacy with him unnerved her more than a little. Thankfully, he moved across the room to a white quartz bar to pour them glasses of ice water. The condo’s sleekness complemented his rugged masculinity, its smooth lines standing in stark contrast to his rough edges.
Leave it to Gabe Dawson to own a penthouse at the very pinnacle of this town, symbolically astride Dallas and everything in it. Although, with the amount of money he’d made, she supposed he had pretty literally conquered the town, too.
“Computer, warm whole house two degrees.”
“Yes, Mr. Dawson.”
Willa glanced over her shoulder at the sultry, female British-accented voice. “Your computer is a girl?”
“Of course.”
“And she controls your air conditioner?”
He laughed. “She controls just about everything. Never argues back, either. She’s better than any wife.”
Willa snorted and refrained from asking the obviously crass question about just what other wifely duties the computer performed for him.
“Computer, lower living-room ambient light to fifty percent. And how about a little Chopin? Piano nocturnes, I think.”
On cue, the lights dimmed to a sexy glow and the haunting strains of a concert piano came out of the walls in perfect surround sound. She whirled in alarm to face Gabe. He’d better not be trying to seduce her! Her fists fell back to her sides when she spotted him sitting on one of the sofas watching her.
“What?” she demanded, to cover her embarrassment at how her fists had flown up like that.
“You’re quite a beautiful woman, Willa.”
She shrugged, desperately wishing in that moment that she was as ugly as some warty old toad. “Don’t
“Face facts, Gabe. The press will come after me as hard or harder than they go after James. Women in these situations always have their reputations dragged through the mud. And now, I’m going to drag my father’s Senate seat through the mud, too. I owe it to his memory not to do that.”
“You don’t owe your father a damned thing. He’s dead.” The elevator dinged and the door slid open to punctuate his forceful statement.
Stunned at the blunt honesty of Gabe’s observation, she stared at his back as he stalked off the elevator and crossed a small lobby toward the lone door opening off it. She ought to be furious with him for speaking such a travesty aloud, but a tiny part of her couldn’t deny that the man spoke the truth. Her father didn’t care anymore about his Senate seat or his precious reputation.
Gabe grasped the long, tubular, metal door handle for several seconds. A red beam of light flashed out of an aperture in the stainless-steel door, startling Willa as it swept across Gabe’s face. A click, and the door opened under his hand.
“Latest in biometric scanning,” he commented as he threw the door wide for her.
She followed cautiously. Lights went on around them automatically as Gabe moved through the foyer and several steps down into a large living room. The first features she noticed were the floor-to-ceiling glass windows lining the entire far side of the open space. Drawn to the magnificent vista outside, she strolled over to take it in.
The Dallas skyline sprawled at her feet, like a steel meadow full of twinkling white lights. The narrow, modern arch of the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge glowed white, spanning the Trinity River in the distance. Cool air blew down silently on her from vents overhead, and Willa hugged herself, chilled. As beautiful as it was, the view was distant and impersonal. Cold.
Her politeness as ingrained as always, though, she commented, “Nice view. But don’t you feel a little exposed with all these windows?”
“We’re on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city, and it’s one-way glass. We have complete privacy.”
The notion of having complete privacy with him unnerved her more than a little. Thankfully, he moved across the room to a white quartz bar to pour them glasses of ice water. The condo’s sleekness complemented his rugged masculinity, its smooth lines standing in stark contrast to his rough edges.
Leave it to Gabe Dawson to own a penthouse at the very pinnacle of this town, symbolically astride Dallas and everything in it. Although, with the amount of money he’d made, she supposed he had pretty literally conquered the town, too.
“Computer, warm whole house two degrees.”
“Yes, Mr. Dawson.”
Willa glanced over her shoulder at the sultry, female British-accented voice. “Your computer is a girl?”
“Of course.”
“And she controls your air conditioner?”
He laughed. “She controls just about everything. Never argues back, either. She’s better than any wife.”
Willa snorted and refrained from asking the obviously crass question about just what other wifely duties the computer performed for him.
“Computer, lower living-room ambient light to fifty percent. And how about a little Chopin? Piano nocturnes, I think.”
On cue, the lights dimmed to a sexy glow and the haunting strains of a concert piano came out of the walls in perfect surround sound. She whirled in alarm to face Gabe. He’d better not be trying to seduce her! Her fists fell back to her sides when she spotted him sitting on one of the sofas watching her.
“What?” she demanded, to cover her embarrassment at how her fists had flown up like that.
“You’re quite a beautiful woman, Willa.”
She shrugged, desperately wishing in that moment that she was as ugly as some warty old toad. “Don’t
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