Damn. Not good.
The third message was from Remington. As the man rambled about Colombia and Italy, Hunter held his head in his hand. He needed to divert his PI from finding any personal facts about Gabi and concentrate on her offshore accounts. Any trust he was building with his temporary wife would be shattered in one phone call if she knew he was paying someone to learn about her past. For some strange reason, he wanted her trust.
Wanted to trust her.
He dialed Remington first and met with a voice mailbox. With caution, he stepped out onto Val’s veranda and looked below. Once Hunter was assured of his privacy, he kept his message short. “It’s Blackwell. I need you to drop what you’re doing. I need to find out who Picano dealt with in Columbia. Someone accessed those accounts, I need to know who. Same with Italy. If you come across Gabriella’s name anywhere else, contact me immediately.”
He sent a text to Tiffany, said he’d see her on Monday.
Andrew picked up on the first ring.
“How is Florida?” Andrew asked.
“Warm, sticky . . . beautiful. Tell me.”
Andrew sighed.
Hunter knew, before Andrew opened his mouth to confirm, what he was going to say.
“The paternity test is positive.”
“Oh, Luuucy . . . you have some ’splaining to do.” Meg’s singsong voice called Gabi outside once her mother finished her interrogation.
There was no way out of this conversation, though Gabi had to try. “Can we ignore what you walked in on?”
Meg shook her head. “Hell to the no! I want details, lady . . . lots of details.”
Gabi glanced up the stairs and motioned toward the outside. “How about a walk?”
“Good idea. Your mother is trying to make me fat. Pasta in the afternoon? Who does that?”
“We’re Italian, we do.”
They walked out to the shore and both left their shoes close to the entrance of Meg and Val’s private villa.
“I thought this was a name-only marriage,” Meg started in.
“It is. I don’t even like the man.”
Meg lifted her eyebrows.
“Well, most of the time.”
“His body was molded to yours and it didn’t look like you were pushing him away.”
“He’s a very attractive man,” Gabi defended.
“Mmm-hmm.”
She thought of his breath on her neck with a sigh. “Extremely attractive.”
“There are plenty of attractive men out there, Gabi. Why Hunter?”
Gabi pulled her hair back to keep the wind from tossing it in her face. “He’s convenient.”
Meg laughed. “So is the taxi driver. You haven’t so much as blinked at the men that have come on to you since . . .”
It was sweet of Meg to avoid saying his name. “Since Alonzo.”
“Yeah.”
They walked in silence a little longer.
“Can I ask you something?” Meg asked. “About Alonzo?”
He was the man who shall never be spoken of . . . or had been since his death. Hearing his name so many times in the last month had the opposite effect it had in those early days. It was easier, she realized, now that Hunter was there to annoy and distract her.
“I suppose.”
“If you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”
“I won’t fall apart with a question,” said Gabi.
“How were things . . . you know, sexually . . . between the two of you?”
It had been a long time since she’d thought about intimacy. Even with Hunter recharging her hormones, she hadn’t once thought of her time in Alonzo’s bed.
“Well . . . before.” She shook her head.
Meg placed a hand on her arm briefly as they walked down the empty beach.
“It was satisfying.”
“Satisfying?”
It was hard to remember any of their time together as being something other than a lie. She’d told herself that their sex life was off because of his deception.
“Are we talking prime rib satisfying, or bologna sandwich fill the stomach satisfying?”
Gabi looked out over the ocean, tried to remember. “I have to admit I was always a little hungry . . . after.”
Meg looped her arm through Gabi’s. “That’s so wrong.”
“I know . . . I can see that now.”
They dodged the water climbing up on the shore.
“What about with Hunter?”
“Oh, we haven’t. I mean . . . what you saw in the kitchen . . . we haven’t.” How was it possible as a grown woman she had such a hard time talking about sex?
“What I saw in the kitchen looked really hot.”
Gabi felt the blush reach her cheeks. “It was,” came her breathy reply.
Meg laughed.
“I don’t want to compare, but did the big asshole ever make you feel like Hunter did today?”
Her answer was swift. “No. Absolutely nothing alike.”
“Hmm . . .”
“It can’t happen,” Gabi voiced the caution running in her head since she parted Hunter’s company.
“Why not? He’s obviously into you. You’re stuck in this marriage for a year and a half? Meaningless hot sex is better than supposed meaningful wet-noodle sex.”