Read Online Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) by Catherine Bybee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Catherine Bybee
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next, close to nothing.
The kitchens were large, but not something she saw herself cooking in. It was like those who lived in the houses didn’t cook . . . or if they did, it was a microwave experience.
Her cell phone rang as she was walking around the back of one of the houses on a side of a steep hill. She didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Gabi.” His voice was actually soothing on the phone.
“Blackwell.”
He laughed. “Asking you to call me Hunter is too much of a chore?”
“I haven’t decided.” She paused, then said, “I take it your plane didn’t go down.”
“No such luck,” he laughed. “My pilot is one of the best.”
“Your very own pilot? I should have guessed.”
“Yes, you should have,” he said.
“Why are you calling?” She moved away from the real estate agent, who hovered close by.
“I’d like to have dinner with you. I’ll be back in town tomorrow afternoon.”
She closed her eyes and pushed away the desire to tell him no. She’d not agreed to a simple date since Alonzo. There had been plenty of opportunities since moving to LA, but the desire to be alone with a man never manifested.
Truth was, she didn’t want to now, but Hunter was her husband.
For a little while, at least.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “We do have a lot to discuss.”
“We do,” he agreed.
“I’m looking at houses,” she offered when he went silent.
“Find anything?”
She sighed. “Not really. I asked to see property that could be turned quickly. There’s not as much out there as I’d hoped.”
“Who is the agent?”
She told him and continued, “Beverly Hills is too congested. Hollywood is too . . .”
“Hollywood,” he finished her sentence.
She found herself smiling. “Yeah. I’m looking in Bel Air.”
“Close to the freeway . . . easy drive to the city.”
Gabi found herself frowning. “I’m not trying to make this easy on you.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you’re not.”
“I’d like to see the house before you make an offer,” he told her.
“Don’t trust me?” she asked.
“I don’t know you well enough to trust you, Gabi.”
That, she could agree with. “Fine. I’ll give you a list when I see you tomorrow.”
“Five?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“See you then,” he said.
“Not if your pilot crashes your jet.”
Hunter laughed and hung up.
Gabi sat across from a stranger.
He wore a thin turtleneck sweater, something she wouldn’t think was attractive on a sale rack, but on Hunter, it demanded her attention.
They’d walked into the posh restaurant, one she’d never been in before, and they were escorted to a quiet table in the back.
The host knew Hunter by name and offered a gracious smile Gabi’s way.
She’d dreaded this dinner since he’d called the day before. Now they sat across from each other without words.
How this was going to work for eighteen months, she had no idea. “I’m not a very good actress,” she finally said.
“I’m not following you.”
“One of the qualities we search for with our female clients is their ability to pretend to be something they’re not.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Happily married.”
“Ahh.”
“Men seem better at the task of pretending they love someone to get what they want.”
“That would be the secret class given in the locker room in tenth grade.”
Gabi found a slight smile on her lips. “I suppose we were given lessons on how to ward off unwanted hands at that time.”
“Lucky for some of us, not all of you girls took that lesson.”
“I’ll bet your list of conquests is long.”
He sat back, smug. “What about your list?”
That was comical. “You’re assuming I have one.”
“All right . . . let’s assume you don’t. Why not?”
She wasn’t expecting the question and had no way of answering it without revealing certain truths she wasn’t prepared to share with this man . . . now . . . perhaps ever.
The kitchens were large, but not something she saw herself cooking in. It was like those who lived in the houses didn’t cook . . . or if they did, it was a microwave experience.
Her cell phone rang as she was walking around the back of one of the houses on a side of a steep hill. She didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Gabi.” His voice was actually soothing on the phone.
“Blackwell.”
He laughed. “Asking you to call me Hunter is too much of a chore?”
“I haven’t decided.” She paused, then said, “I take it your plane didn’t go down.”
“No such luck,” he laughed. “My pilot is one of the best.”
“Your very own pilot? I should have guessed.”
“Yes, you should have,” he said.
“Why are you calling?” She moved away from the real estate agent, who hovered close by.
“I’d like to have dinner with you. I’ll be back in town tomorrow afternoon.”
She closed her eyes and pushed away the desire to tell him no. She’d not agreed to a simple date since Alonzo. There had been plenty of opportunities since moving to LA, but the desire to be alone with a man never manifested.
Truth was, she didn’t want to now, but Hunter was her husband.
For a little while, at least.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “We do have a lot to discuss.”
“We do,” he agreed.
“I’m looking at houses,” she offered when he went silent.
“Find anything?”
She sighed. “Not really. I asked to see property that could be turned quickly. There’s not as much out there as I’d hoped.”
“Who is the agent?”
She told him and continued, “Beverly Hills is too congested. Hollywood is too . . .”
“Hollywood,” he finished her sentence.
She found herself smiling. “Yeah. I’m looking in Bel Air.”
“Close to the freeway . . . easy drive to the city.”
Gabi found herself frowning. “I’m not trying to make this easy on you.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you’re not.”
“I’d like to see the house before you make an offer,” he told her.
“Don’t trust me?” she asked.
“I don’t know you well enough to trust you, Gabi.”
That, she could agree with. “Fine. I’ll give you a list when I see you tomorrow.”
“Five?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“See you then,” he said.
“Not if your pilot crashes your jet.”
Hunter laughed and hung up.
Gabi sat across from a stranger.
He wore a thin turtleneck sweater, something she wouldn’t think was attractive on a sale rack, but on Hunter, it demanded her attention.
They’d walked into the posh restaurant, one she’d never been in before, and they were escorted to a quiet table in the back.
The host knew Hunter by name and offered a gracious smile Gabi’s way.
She’d dreaded this dinner since he’d called the day before. Now they sat across from each other without words.
How this was going to work for eighteen months, she had no idea. “I’m not a very good actress,” she finally said.
“I’m not following you.”
“One of the qualities we search for with our female clients is their ability to pretend to be something they’re not.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Happily married.”
“Ahh.”
“Men seem better at the task of pretending they love someone to get what they want.”
“That would be the secret class given in the locker room in tenth grade.”
Gabi found a slight smile on her lips. “I suppose we were given lessons on how to ward off unwanted hands at that time.”
“Lucky for some of us, not all of you girls took that lesson.”
“I’ll bet your list of conquests is long.”
He sat back, smug. “What about your list?”
That was comical. “You’re assuming I have one.”
“All right . . . let’s assume you don’t. Why not?”
She wasn’t expecting the question and had no way of answering it without revealing certain truths she wasn’t prepared to share with this man . . . now . . . perhaps ever.
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