Rush

twenty-eight
    “Gabe, I have to run these documents down to John so he can look them over before
     we leave for Paris. I also have to pick up the marketing plans from him. I thought
     I’d grab us lunch so we can eat in the office.”
    Gabe glanced up to see Mia standing close to his desk, question in her eyes. He checked
     the time and saw that indeed it was past time for lunch. He and Mia had been working
     the entire morning in preparation for their trip to Paris this afternoon.
    Part of him was tempted to keep her sequestered in his office where he could see and
     touch her at all times. Have someone else go get lunch for them. It was an urge he
     had to fiercely restrain.
    Even after spending the entire weekend with her in bed, exhausting them both, he hadn’t
     had enough of her.
    “That’s fine. Don’t go far. The deli down the block is fine. You know what I like.”
    She smiled, her eyes gleaming suggestively at his remark. The little tease did know
     exactly what he liked in exacting detail. And if she didn’t leave now, he was going
     to be helpless against his reaction.
    “Go,” he said in a husky voice laced with need. “If you don’t stop looking at me that
     way, we’ll never get to Paris.”
    Her soft laughter filled the air and his ears as she turned towalk from his office. He experienced a moment of panic when she closed the door behind
     her, leaving him alone in the now-empty office.
    It wasn’t the same when she wasn’t here, occupying the same space as he was. It was
     like having clouds move in on a sunny day.
    He refocused his attention on the information in front of him, refusing to watch the
     clock and wait for Mia’s return.
    Eleanor buzzed him, interrupting his concentration, and he frowned.
    “What is it, Eleanor?”
    “Sir, Mrs. Hamilton is here to see you. Uh, Lisa Hamilton.”
    Gabe blew out his breath and closed his eyes. Not now for God’s sake. Had the world
     around him gone insane? His father was pursuing his mother and now Lisa was sniffing
     around again. He’d made it clear to her the last time she’d dragged into his office
     that he had no desire to see her again, and over his dead body would they ever reconcile.
    Maybe he hadn’t been quite as clear as he thought.
    “Send her in,” Gabe bit out.
    Evidently he was going to have to get his point across in a way she couldn’t possibly
     misunderstand.
    A moment later, Lisa opened his door and walked in, perfectly made-up, not a hair
     out of place. But then she’d always looked and acted perfect.
    His gaze narrowed when he saw that she was wearing her wedding rings—rings he’d given
     her. It disgusted him to see any reminders of his possession of her.
    “Gabe, we need to talk,” she said.
    She settled into the chair in front of Gabe’s desk without waiting for him to issue
     the invitation or to toss her out, either one.
    “There’s nothing for us to discuss,” he said mildly.
    Her brow furrowed and the first sign of emotion flared in her eyes.
    “What do I have to do, Gabe? How much do you want me to grovel? Tell me so I can do
     it and we can move on.”
    He tempered his impatience and sat a moment so he didn’t react too harshly. And then
     he wanted to laugh at the idea that he could act too harshly. She’d skewered him.
     She’d betrayed him. And he still didn’t know what had made her snap.
    “There is nothing you can do or say that will ever change my mind,” he said in clear,
     concise words. “We are over, Lisa. That was your choice. You divorced me. Not the
     other way around.”
    Her face fell and she dramatically wiped at a nonexistent tear.
    “I know I hurt you terribly. I’m so sorry, Gabe. I was such a fool. But we still love
     each other. It would be a terrible waste for us not to at least try. I can make you
     happy. I made you happy once. I can do it again.”
    He was close to losing his temper, and he chose his words carefully.
    “I don’t love you,” he said bluntly.
    She flinched, and this time she didn’t have to fake the tears welling in her eyes.
    “I don’t believe you,” she said huskily.
    He sighed. “I don’t really care what you believe. That’s not my problem. You and I
     are in the past and that’s where we are staying. Stop doing this to yourself—to me—Lisa.
     I have work to do and I can’t get it done with constant interruptions.”
    “So how does a club on sourdough sound?” Mia said as she entered his office, arms
     full of the