It Must Be Love

Chapter Eighteen

At nine o'clock the next morning, the first dozen roses arrived. They were gorgeous and pure white, and they were from Joe. He'd scrawled his name across the card, but that was it. Just his name. Gabrielle didn't have a clue what that meant, but she wasn't about to read anything into it. She'd done that once. She'd read too much into the way he'd kissed her and made love to her, and she'd paid.

The second dozen were red. The third dozen, pink. Their fragrance filled her house. She still absolutely refused to look for meaning, but when she realized she was waiting for his call, just as she had the day of Kevin's arrest, she pulled on a T-shirt and running shorts and took off for her jog.

No more waiting. She needed to clear her head. She needed to figure out what to do because she didn't think she could take another repeat of the night before. Seeing him hurt too much. She'd thought she was strong enough to face the other half of her soul, but she wasn't She couldn't look into the eyes of the man she loved and know he didn't love her. Especially now, when she knew that on the morning he'd made love to her, he'd visited his girlfriend first. Hearing about the woman who owned the deli had been one more stab to her already wounded heart. A deli owner would love to cook. She probably wouldn't mind cleaning the house and doing Joe's laundry, either. The things he'd mentioned were important to him that day in the storage room when he'd pushed her against the wall and kissed her until she could hardly breathe.

Gabrielle jogged past St. John's, a few blocks from her house. The doors were thrown open, and music from the pipe organ floated through the wooden entrance to the old cathedral. Gabrielle wondered if Joe was Catholic or Protestant or atheist. Then she remembered he'd said he'd attended a parochial school, and she figured he was Catholic. Not that it mattered now.

She jogged past Boise High and ran four laps around the school's track before she once again turned toward home. Back to her house filled with the flowers Joe had sent her. Back to the confusion she'd felt since the day she'd met him. She felt it now more than ever. Fresh air hadn't helped at all to clear her head, and there was only one thing she knew for sure. If Joe did call, she'd tell him he had to stop. No more calls or flowers. She didn't want to see him.

She figured the chances of them accidentally running into each other were slim. He was a property crimes detective, and she didn't foresee a burglary in her future. She planned to open a shop selling her oils, and she didn't envision Joe as a potential aromatherapy customer. There was no reason why they would ever see each other again.

Except that he was waiting for her on her front porch, sitting with his feet planted on the step beneath him, forearms resting across his thighs. His sunglasses swung from one hand suspended between his knees. He looked up at her approach and slowly rose. No matter what she told herself, her treacherous heart swelled at the sight of him. Then, as if he thought she meant to say something he didn't want to hear, he held up his hand to stop her. But really, she didn't know what to say, since she hadn't formed a coherent thought yet.

"Before you order me off of your porch," he began, "I have something to tell you."

He'd dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a cotton shirt that buttoned up the front. He'd rolled the long sleeves up his forearms. He looked so good she wanted to reach out and touch him, but of course she didn't. "I heard what you had to say last night," she said.

"I don't know what happened last night, but I definitely didn't say everything I needed to."

He shifted his weight to one foot. "Are you going to invite me inside?"

"No."

He stared at her for a moment. "Did you get the roses?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Oh good." He opened his mouth, shut it, then tried again. "I don't know where to begin. I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing again." He paused then said, "I'm sorry I hurt you."

She couldn't look at him and lowered her gaze to her feet. "Is that why you sent the roses?"

"Yes."

The second she heard his answer, she realized she shouldn't have asked the question. She also realized that in a tiny corner of her masochistic heart, she'd held on to the hope that he'd sent the flowers because he loved her the way she loved him. "It's over. I'm over it."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want then." She moved past him, to reach the safety of her house before she burst into tears. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to see her cry.

He reached out and grasped her arm. "Please don't walk away from me again. I know I hurt you the night you told me you loved me and I walked away, but Gabrielle, you've walked away from me twice now."

She stopped. Not because he held her arm but because there was something in his voice that caught her attention and held her in its grasp. Something she'd never heard before. Something in the way he'd said her name. "When did I ever walk away from you?"

"Last night, and each time I watched you go hurt like a bitch, like I said, I know that I really hurt you, but don't you think that maybe we can call a truce? Maybe we're even now?" He slid his palm down her arm and grasped her hand. "Don't you think it's time that you let me make it up to you?" He pulled something from his pocket and pressed a metal disk into her palm. "I am the other half of your soul," he said. "And you are the other half of my soul. Together we make each other whole."

Gabrielle opened her hand and looked down at the flat black-and-white pendant suspended from a silver chain. The yin and yang. He understood.

"We belong together." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you."

She heard him, but she couldn't speak past the emotions expanding like a balloon in her chest She stared at the necklace and what it represented. If she believed him, if she trusted him, he'd just given her everything her heart desired.

"And in case you're thinking of telling me to get out of your life again, there's one more thing you should consider. Just think about all the good karma you can create for yourself when you reform me."

She glanced up into his face, and her vision blurred through her tears. "Do you mean it?" "Yes. You can reform me. Well, you can try." She shook her head as a tear slid down her cheek. "I mean, do you really love me, Joe?"

"With every breath I take," he said without hesitation. "I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy." He wiped her wet cheek with the back of his hand and asked, "Do you still love me, Gabrielle?"

He sounded so uncertain, his eyes so intense, that she couldn't suppress the smile curving her lips. "Yes, I still love you." Absolute relief softened his gaze, and she added, "Although I don't think you deserve me." "I know I don't deserve you." "Would you like to come inside anyway?" A whoosh of air escaped his chest. "Yes." He followed her into the house and waited until she closed the door before he reached for her. His hands grabbed her shoulders, and he pulled her up against his chest. "I've missed you," he said as he planted kisses on her face and her throat. Then he pulled back, looked into her eyes, and swooped in to press his lips to hers. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands were everywhere at once. Greedy touches caressing her back, her behind, and cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, and they instantly hardened. She felt totally consumed. Wrapped up in his arms. His embrace. Him. Loving him as much as he loved her.

She pulled back to catch her breath. "I'm sweaty. I have to take a shower."

"I don't care."

"I do."

He pulled air into his lungs and dropped his arms. "Okay, I didn't come here to rush you into anything you aren't ready to do. I know I hurt you, and I know you probably don't feel like making love to me right now. I can wait." He blew out his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I'll just wait for you. I'll just-" He paused and looked around. "Read a magazine or something."

She tried not to laugh. "You could do that. Or you could join me."

His gaze flew to hers, and Gabrielle reached for his hand. She led him toward the bathroom, and somehow along the way, she lost her shirt and he lost his. He paused to place his open mouth on the side of her neck. She released the hooks of her tight sports bra and freed her breasts into his waiting palms. His deep red aura surrounded them both. Surrounded her with his passion and something that hadn't been there before. His love. It poured over and through her like a heat wave and raised the hair on her arms.

"You're so beautiful to me," he spoke into the hollow of her throat. "I want to spend the rest of my life looking at you, being with you, making you happy."

Gabrielle kissed him long and hard, her tongue touching and chasing his. He brushed his palms across her tight nipples, then lightly squeezed her breasts. Desire swept across her flesh, and she shoved her hand down the front of his pants and grasped his incredibly hard erection. He was stone covered with satin-smooth skin. She stroked him, running her thumb up and over the head of his hot penis. Feeling him, rediscovering the shape and texture of him until he took a step back and pulled her hand from his pants.

His lids were so low that she could hardly see his shining eyes. "Are you sure you want that shower?" asked an extremely aroused Joe Shanahan.

She nodded, and he practically pulled her out of her shoes. He hauled her willingly into the bathroom, and while she turned on and tested the water, he stripped. Then he stripped her, too, and they stepped into the shower stall. Warm water poured over their heads, and he reached for a bar of lavender soap. He lathered his hands, then rubbed suds all over her body. He paid a lot of attention to her breasts and the peaks of her stiff nipples. He washed her belly and between her thighs. Then he kissed all those places, long, lingering caresses of his tongue and mouth. Her breasts. Her navel. He knelt before her, placed her foot on his shoulder, and grasped her behind in his big hand. He combed his finger through her short pubic hair, then tilted her pelvis toward his mouth and kissed her there. She leaned her head back against the shower wall as the tension inside her built tighter and tighter. Then he stood and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His smooth, hot erection slid against her bottom, and she shivered.

"This is my favorite part," he said, lifting, then lowering her onto his engorged penis, burying himself deep inside. "Touching you where you're all hot and slick. Where it feels so good. Where you feel so good."

"The really good part."

"Yes." He withdrew, then pumped his hips and thrust into her, slowly at first.

"I love you, Joe." He moved harder and faster, and his breath rushed in and out of his lungs as he hammered into her. It didn't take long before both of them shattered in a reeling climax that almost sent Joe to his knees. Her heart pounded in her ears, and it took several long moments for Joe to catch his breath. She didn't realize the water had cooled until he turned it off.

"Sweet baby Jesus," he swore as he withdrew and lowered her to her feet. "That was like trying to run, juggle, and come, all at the same time."

"I appreciate it," she whispered and kissed his neck.

"I wasn't complaining." He grinned and patted her behind. "Do you have anything to eat? Maybe some bacon and eggs? I'm starving after that."

She offered him cornflakes. They sat at her dining room table, wearing nothing but towels and huge smiles. Gabrielle looked beside her at the man she loved and wondered what she'd done so right to deserve everything she wanted. She didn't know, but she figured it was about time her karma started to repay her for the past few months.

That night as she lay in her bed, wrapped in Joe's arms, a feeling of complete balance and utter happiness filled her body, mind, and spirit. She thought perhaps she'd found a bit of nirvana on earth, but she did have one question.

"Joe?"

His hand slid down her ribs to her hip. "Hmm."

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Probably last month, but I didn't know it for sure until you walked into the Hillard party last night."

"What took so long?"

He was silent a moment, then said, "After I was shot, I had a lot of time on my hands to think, and I decided it was time to start a family. I got this picture in my head of what my wife should be like. She'd like to cook and make sure I have clean socks."

"That's not really me."

"I know. You're who I wanted before I knew what I really wanted."

"I think I understand. I always thought I'd fall in love with a man who would meditate with me."

"That's definitely not me."

"I know. You're who I wanted before I knew what I really wanted." She pulled back and looked up at him. "Do you still think I'm crazy?"

"What I think," he said and gathered her in his arms, "is that I'm crazy in love with you."