The upscale restaurant sat in the heart of Dallas and was frequented by celebrities, the rich . . . and the up-and-coming entrepreneurs who wanted to make an impression. Money in Dallas was a lot like it was on the West Coast. The people in this town didn’t care if you just made your millions or if Daddy left them to you. If anything, a self-made man held a hair more clout.
Hunter led Gabi to the bar to await their dinner companions. Heads turned their way as more than one man took notice of his wife. During the drive to the restaurant, he’d kept his distance from her in the back of the limousine. He now made sure some part of their bodies were touching. It was his way of making sure any man watching understood she was with him.
Hunter wasn’t sure where the jealousy stemmed from. He couldn’t claim a time he’d given any thought to another man’s eyes on his date.
It was the ring, he decided. Gabi wore his ring, and somehow that deemed him capable of jealousy, demanded it even. That was the bullshit he fed his head in order to ward off anything deeper.
They found a high-top table and Hunter tucked her into a chair. “What do you want?”
“Dry martini . . . two olives.”
He stepped away and captured the bartender’s attention. While he waited for their drinks, he kept an eye on his wife.
She sat with her back rod-straight. The earrings dangled over her slim neck and glistened with every shake of her head. Her full breasts hugged the inside of her dress, which slimmed to her waist. He let his gaze fall and noticed her tapping her foot to the music. He really didn’t deserve her. He meant the words he’d uttered in the hotel room. The thought of letting her go was a double-edged claymore ready to decapitate him. He should be isolating himself, emotionally, from her.
Yet he’d thought about nothing but her since he’d left LA. He thought the distance would ease the fire inside him. Instead, it blew a steady puff of air and forced that flame to life.
The bartender tapped his arm. Hunter tossed a bill on the bar and grasped the drinks. By the time he turned around, someone had approached Gabi and was leaning over the table.
Hunter wove through the people crowding the bar and interrupted the stranger midsentence.
“I could most certainly quench your—”
Hunter wasn’t sure what the Texan was suggesting he quench, but Hunter set the drinks down and did something he never did . . . he wrapped an arm over Gabi’s shoulders and glared.
“Well.” The other man stood as tall as his boots would let him and smiled. “Looks like you do have a man attached to that ring.”
“I tried to tell you,” Gabi said as she shifted into Hunter’s side.
The infatuated man held out his hand, and in order to avoid a scene, Hunter had no choice but to grasp it.
“You’re a very lucky man,” the Texan said. He let go and sent Gabi a wink before wandering off.
Beside him, Gabi started to silently laugh.
“What was that?” Hunter asked.
“A bar hookup that failed,” she told him.
Hunter stared after the retreating back of the man hitting on his wife.
Her tapping hand brought his attention back. “You’re growling.”
He stopped. When he brought her back into focus, she was laughing.
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“More than you can possibly know.” She lifted her drink and clicked her glass to his. “You know what they say about payback,” she teased.
He was growling again.
Chapter Nineteen
Every once in a while, Gabi would catch Hunter watching her as they sat across from Frank and Minnie Adams. His gaze would capture her hand on the stem of her martini glass and linger.
She stroked it a few extra times until Hunter gently kicked her under the table.
Oh, the power . . . who knew she’d be so invigorated with it?
The older Texan couple were everything Gabi pictured as a happy pair entering the second stage of adult life. Their only child, Melissa, was grown, and from what Gabi could surmise, trying to find her place in Daddy’s company.
They were ordering coffee, deciding on a froufrou dessert to share, when Mr. Adams broached the subject of business.
“I like you, Blackwell,” Mr. Adams said as he leaned over the table. “Even though you’re ruthless and according to my lawyers, can’t be trusted—”
“Frank!” Minnie nudged her husband.
“They say you’re going to take over my company and bankrupt the oil production portion and dedicate all your devotion to new pipelines.”
Hunter sat beside her and listened, his eyes focused on the man in front of him.
“Pipelines are the future.”
“Without oil . . . what is the worth of the pipeline?” Frank opposed.
Hunter sat back. “Every oilman in Texas . . . in the US would need to go through Adams/Blackwell pipelines in order to deliver their crude. We’ll make money on every barrel manufactured regardless of whose land it stems from.”