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“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because you’re letting me.”

Tory nodded her head. “You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” he said. “You know me, Mr. Nice Guy.”

She lowered her thick, black lashes. “It’d be easier if you weren’t.”

He stiffened. “You want me to scream and yell?” He wanted to punch something. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be in this place anymore. The place tinged with hate, with hurt. He had to put an end to this. It was time. She still drove him crazy after all these years. “I don’t hate you anymore,” he said softly. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t at one time.”

“I deserve that.” She wrung her hands. Her eyes were haunted.

Gabe could tell she was as uncomfortable as he was with the whole situation and, damn it, she should be. She’d walked away from him with no explanation. And even though he’d burnt the pictures of her and chased away her memories by becoming a fierce competitor, he still didn’t know why she’d left. She sacked his heart. But he wouldn’t let her know that. He couldn’t.

He’d never tell her that he exorcised the ghosts away with a procession of women who’d knotted his sheets. There weren’t that many of them, but there’d been enough. Enough to teach him that he’d still feel empty in the morning.

Time to shift gears. “So tell me, Miss Sports Management, how did you wind up owning a beauty shop? That’s quite a contrast.”

“I inherited it.”

He waited a minute to see if she’d say anything more—expand upon her inheritance. But she didn’t. She returned her gaze out the window. “Must be nice to be spoiled,” he muttered.

“I am not spoiled.”

“Yeah, you are.”

She growled in frustration. “Well, you’re impossible.”

He smirked. “You are spoiled and you’re used to getting your own way.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are,” he replied.

She slid towards him on the seat. “You listen here, I didn’t want to go on this damned date with you anyhow.” She pointed her shaking finger at him. “So you just sit there with your rude, smug—oh!” She groaned when he stuck his tongue out at her.

Gabe burst into laughter as she shook her finger just like the sister who had taught him in Catholic school. He tried to control his laughter. “I think the convent really misses you.”

She smacked him in the arm. “Can you be serious for one minute?”

Gabe tried to stop laughing but the way she had her face scrunched up in anger made things worse. He seemed to bring out the worst in her, or maybe this was her best. And damned if this wasn’t right where he wanted to be, right here with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable. Five years ago and counting, his heart reminded him.

“Are you done?” she asked him as he continued laughing.

“Don’t you know how to relax and enjoy yourself anymore?”

“Of course, I do,” she told him. “Do you always have to answer my question with a question?”

They exchanged a subtle look of amusement.

“Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what I’ve been up to in the last few years?”

Biting her lip, she looked away. He let her stew on his question for a second while he fought the urge to turn her around and show her what she’d missed.

“Admit it,” he challenged. “You missed me.”

“So what if I did?” she muttered hastily.

“What was that?”

She turned towards him, her face a vivid scarlet. “You heard me.”

He chuckled.

She simply shrugged.

“You want to kiss me.”

“No, I don’t.”

He shook his head slowly. “I think you do.”

She sighed. “I only kissed you back earlier so I wouldn’t make you look bad in front of the press.”

“Ah, that’s the excuse?”

The blush crept back into her cheeks.

“It didn’t feel like it was,” he told her softly. His gaze locked with hers. When she tried to turn away from him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and made him face her. “You want me to answer all of your questions, but you can’t answer mine? It’s simple, Tory, you either were or weren’t faking it.”

She bit her lower lip again and he groaned inwardly. “You can’t admit it.”

“Admit what?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He moved closer and tilted his head so that his lips were a mere breath away from hers. “That you kissed me back,” he murmured, “and you really want me to kiss you again, so why don’t we just get this over with?”

“You’re the last man I want to kiss,” Tory lied as she laughed nervously. In reality, she wanted to kiss him very much. No other man had ever made her toes curl. The kiss they shared earlier was sloppy and unplanned. She could only imagine what it would be like if he thought about it as much as she did. She’d reveled in his kisses before.

Breathtaking.

Her words didn’t deter him. He slid closer, a smile pasted across his mouth, his dimples, larger than life. “You know you want to,” he purred.

Wedged between him and the door, she couldn’t move out of his reach. What was it with the trapped feeling she’d been experiencing today? “No, I don’t. You’re a rock in my shoe.” Now, where had that come from? Well, he was just as irritating as one.

His smile widened, showing pearly whites. “Well, darlin’, you see that’s a good thing. It means I’m under your skin.”

Tory swallowed. His face was mere inches from hers. She could see the fine, blond stubble on his face, smell the toothpaste on his hot breath and her stomach did a flip-flop. This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t allow it either. He was the last thing she wanted.

“Keep dreaming,” she told him, trying to be flippant. “I scratched you away a long time ago.”

“Is that so? Now you have my curiosity aroused,” he told her as his hand closed around hers. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, igniting a flame.

Tory’s instincts for self-preservation kicked in, yet she still couldn’t find enough strength to pull away. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Satisfaction brought him back.”