Gabe’s arms came around her, pulling her closer. She buried her face in his chest and allowed the tears to come as he silently smoothed her hair. When her tears began to subside, she lifted her head from his chest to thank him, but as she peered down at him and her gaze locked with his, the words died on her tongue.
His hand slid into her hair and he slowly drew her in to press his lips firmly against hers. For a moment, she melted into his kiss, electrified by the intimate caress of his tongue as it teased her lips. Then with a jolt, she came to her senses and shoved against his chest, pushing him back enough to break the kiss. But his hand was still at the nape of her neck, and her lips hovered dangerously close to his. Even in his drunken state, the brief kiss had been warm and sensual, and awakened something in her she’d just as soon not recognize.
“Elle,” he whispered, his gaze searching hers. “Unless you want me to kiss you again, you should probably go.”
He was right. She should go. She should. Staying would be a very, very bad idea. They were both grief-stricken, vulnerable. Letting things go any further would be a colossal mistake. And Gabe was a ladies’ man. Always had been. God knows who would’ve ended up in his arms that night had she not shown up when she did. She was just a warm body when he needed someone to hold. That’s all this was. She meant nothing to him. She was just another conquest. And for all she knew, he wouldn’t even remember her having been there come morning.
“You’re drunk, Gabe,” she reminded him. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
His gaze was so intense, she had to suppress a shudder. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he assured her, his voice going deeper. “Do you?”
Every logical thought told her to get up right now and go. But before she quite realized what she was doing, she leaned in, brushing her lips against his…
Chapter 2
One year later…
“You are an irredeemable jackass!”
Gabe grinned and crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded the deputy prosecutor who was glaring at him with such fury, any other man might’ve withered under her irate gaze. But not him. Hell no. Because Elle McCoy was vibrant and fiery even when he wasn’t on her shit list—but when she was pissed at him? Well, then she was just goddamned adorable. And he couldn’t help acting like a frigging ten-year-old, goading her just to see those almond-shaped emerald eyes of hers flash.
“Irredeemable?” Gabe taunted, giving her the dimpled smile he knew had a way of vanishing the panties of every woman he’d ever wanted—except her. “Don’t you mean irresistible?”
Elle’s eyes narrowed at him, her glare growing more furious, if that was even possible. She snatched up the yellow legal pad from the table and shoved it into her sleek leather briefcase. “No, Dawson, I don’t,” she hissed in that slightly husky voice that made the criminals she prosecuted know she meant business. “You’re damned lucky I was able to convict this asshole without his cousin’s testimony.”
Gabe’s swagger faltered ever so slightly. Elle was convinced he’d hooked up with the girlfriend of a key witness on the case she’d been working her ass off on. He hadn’t known the woman’s connection to the case when she’d offered him a ride home from Mulaney’s one night. But she sure as hell had known who he was. And even though nothing had happened between them, she’d lied to her boyfriend, telling him all about a one-night stand with the deputy investigating his family for the murder of a damned good cop—and Gabe’s best friend.
Billy Monroe had gone apeshit—big shocker there. And when he’d finished threatening to relieve Gabe of his manhood and force him to ingest it in spite of Gabe’s attempt to explain that nothing had happened, that he’d only gotten a ride home from Chelsea, Billy had clammed up, refusing to cooperate and offer any testimony on his waste-of-space cousin.
Fortunately, Elle had still managed to persuade a jury to convict Derrick Monroe of murder even without his cousin’s testimony. But that didn’t make Gabe feel like any less of an asshole for screwing things up to begin with. He knew Elle had fought tooth and nail for this conviction, and he owed her. Big time.
He cast a quick glance around the nearly empty courtroom, then took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He gently took hold of her elbow. “I’m sorry, Elle,” he told her, his voice low. “I really am. I fu—” He caught himself and sent another glance around the room before sighing. “I screwed up. I know that. Let me take you to dinner, make it up to you.”