the evenings at one or the other.
This morning, however, Ethan had poked him around six thirty when he woke and found their mate gone. Then Ethan had slammed off to his workout in the apartment’s well-equipped gym.
Gabe hoped he had gone a couple of rounds with the heavy bag.
It was now nearly eight a.m., and although Ethan was dressed in one of his endless series of superbly tailored charcoal or black suits, he seemed tenser than he had been an hour ago. Gabe eyeballed Ethan, sitting stiffly in his crisp white linen shirt, pretending to read the paper, tapping his finger constantly against his coffee cup. Hell, it was funny.
Gabriel sat at the breakfast table, yawning into his coffee cup and wishing he were still asleep. He had showered too, and put on pajama pants and a T-shirt in deference to Mrs. Watson, their housekeeper. She came in every day shortly after seven, specifically because she was determined to send Ethan to the office with a hot breakfast.
She fussed over him like a mother hen, Gabriel thought, and then grinned. She did the same for Gabriel with lunch before he left for the day. A hot lunch, every single day. Of course, with his upbringing he didn’t take it for granted the way Ethan did. But then his mother, unlike Ethan’s, had never cooked anything more difficult than a hot toddy for herself. Thinking about it, Gabe reconsidered. Angelica’s philosophy was that anything requiring an appliance was the domain of domestics. In fact he doubted if his mother had ever been in their kitchen, except to fire the servant who foolishly forced her to set foot in the place.
Amused, he stared at the plate in front of him. An omelet, bacon, mixed tropical fruit and hash browns. All freshly made. Freshly squeezed orange juice for him, grapefruit juice for Ethan. And apple muffins, still hot from the oven.
The white-haired woman bustled through the kitchen door with a fresh carafe of coffee.
“Thanks, Mrs. Watson.” Gabe smiled up at her.
She filled it and stared at him. “Hmpf. Why are you awake so early?”
“Ethan woke me up. Made me get up too.”
She stared at Ethan. “Why did you do that? Now he’ll just be underfoot.”
Ethan frowned at her. “I didn’t make him get up.” Then he frowned at Gabriel. “Don’t blame me. Go back to sleep until noon like usual.”
“No, I’m awake now.”
Ethan cut his omelet ruthlessly with knife and fork. “Then stop complaining.” He shoved a forkful into his mouth. “Read the paper.” He looked at his watch.
“The driver will be downstairs in ten minutes,” Mrs. Watson said as she headed back into the kitchen. “Don’t keep him waiting or traffic will be terrible.” The door swung closed behind her.
Gabriel snorted into his cup, as Ethan glared at him.
“I’m glad you’re so happy this morning. What are we going to do about Mariella?”
“What is wrong with you?”
Ethan kept eating, silently. Radiating tension, his mouth tight.
Gabriel crashed his cup into the saucer. “Look, I’ll call her. I’ll make a date for her to meet us after work, here or at Insatiable. Or at Crave.”
“We scared her. I scared her. She ran off in the middle of the night!” Ethan dropped his knife and fork on his plate. “She’s the one, Gabe, and I don’t know if we’ll see her again.”
Gabriel stared at his friend. “She is the one, which means we’re the ones for her too. Can you doubt that after last night? She responded to us, both of us, perfectly. She matched us. A girl we met yesterday, a virgin, and she had us both harder than any other woman we’ve known. Hell, a little experience and she’ll probably put us in the hospital.” He sat back. “Let’s wait until we hear what she has to say, all right? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” Ethan growled.
“Tied up in knots over a woman. Over anything, man. I’m the one with the short temper, and you’re always Mr. Cool. Nice to see the roles reversed for
This morning, however, Ethan had poked him around six thirty when he woke and found their mate gone. Then Ethan had slammed off to his workout in the apartment’s well-equipped gym.
Gabe hoped he had gone a couple of rounds with the heavy bag.
It was now nearly eight a.m., and although Ethan was dressed in one of his endless series of superbly tailored charcoal or black suits, he seemed tenser than he had been an hour ago. Gabe eyeballed Ethan, sitting stiffly in his crisp white linen shirt, pretending to read the paper, tapping his finger constantly against his coffee cup. Hell, it was funny.
Gabriel sat at the breakfast table, yawning into his coffee cup and wishing he were still asleep. He had showered too, and put on pajama pants and a T-shirt in deference to Mrs. Watson, their housekeeper. She came in every day shortly after seven, specifically because she was determined to send Ethan to the office with a hot breakfast.
She fussed over him like a mother hen, Gabriel thought, and then grinned. She did the same for Gabriel with lunch before he left for the day. A hot lunch, every single day. Of course, with his upbringing he didn’t take it for granted the way Ethan did. But then his mother, unlike Ethan’s, had never cooked anything more difficult than a hot toddy for herself. Thinking about it, Gabe reconsidered. Angelica’s philosophy was that anything requiring an appliance was the domain of domestics. In fact he doubted if his mother had ever been in their kitchen, except to fire the servant who foolishly forced her to set foot in the place.
Amused, he stared at the plate in front of him. An omelet, bacon, mixed tropical fruit and hash browns. All freshly made. Freshly squeezed orange juice for him, grapefruit juice for Ethan. And apple muffins, still hot from the oven.
The white-haired woman bustled through the kitchen door with a fresh carafe of coffee.
“Thanks, Mrs. Watson.” Gabe smiled up at her.
She filled it and stared at him. “Hmpf. Why are you awake so early?”
“Ethan woke me up. Made me get up too.”
She stared at Ethan. “Why did you do that? Now he’ll just be underfoot.”
Ethan frowned at her. “I didn’t make him get up.” Then he frowned at Gabriel. “Don’t blame me. Go back to sleep until noon like usual.”
“No, I’m awake now.”
Ethan cut his omelet ruthlessly with knife and fork. “Then stop complaining.” He shoved a forkful into his mouth. “Read the paper.” He looked at his watch.
“The driver will be downstairs in ten minutes,” Mrs. Watson said as she headed back into the kitchen. “Don’t keep him waiting or traffic will be terrible.” The door swung closed behind her.
Gabriel snorted into his cup, as Ethan glared at him.
“I’m glad you’re so happy this morning. What are we going to do about Mariella?”
“What is wrong with you?”
Ethan kept eating, silently. Radiating tension, his mouth tight.
Gabriel crashed his cup into the saucer. “Look, I’ll call her. I’ll make a date for her to meet us after work, here or at Insatiable. Or at Crave.”
“We scared her. I scared her. She ran off in the middle of the night!” Ethan dropped his knife and fork on his plate. “She’s the one, Gabe, and I don’t know if we’ll see her again.”
Gabriel stared at his friend. “She is the one, which means we’re the ones for her too. Can you doubt that after last night? She responded to us, both of us, perfectly. She matched us. A girl we met yesterday, a virgin, and she had us both harder than any other woman we’ve known. Hell, a little experience and she’ll probably put us in the hospital.” He sat back. “Let’s wait until we hear what she has to say, all right? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” Ethan growled.
“Tied up in knots over a woman. Over anything, man. I’m the one with the short temper, and you’re always Mr. Cool. Nice to see the roles reversed for
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