Tessa.
Gabe bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the snicker desperately trying to escape.
"I need to powder my nose." She bolted for the ladies' room, Melody hot on her heels. Why did women always visit the head in groups? She probably wanted to grill Tessa about her newfound "cousin." Man, he'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Before long, the pair returned, a hectic flush still staining Tessa's cheeks. As the wedding talk continued, sweat beaded on Gabe's forehead and dampened his shirt. His neck wasn't even the one in the noose, and he could barely breathe. He surreptitiously loosened his tie. He needed to take his bike out for a spin and blow out this rat-with-his-tail-in-a-trap feeling.
Two torturous hours crawled by. Lucille tried to manipulate the plans, first with finesse, then pressure, progressing to blatant manipulation. Tessa quietly stood her ground, and Gabe's respect for her grew. Dale automatically agreed with his mother when asked. Finally, Tessa called a halt to the ordeal.
As the group parted ways in the parking lot, Gabe waggled his fingers at Dale. "Bye, handsome."
The blond hulk blanched, and stammered a farewell.
"What a huge disappointment for all womankind ," Melody murmured to Tessa.
He could hear Tessa grinding her teeth. "You don't know the half of it."
Gabe grinned. Wait until she saw what he had planned for tomorrow.
She would kill him.
----
Chapter 6
« ^ »
T essa's co-workers rallied around her at the bank the next morning, offering sympathy over her ordeal. After several pointed glares from Mr. Trask , she finally settled everyone into the pre-opening routine.
Leaving her office door open, she sat behind her desk and stowed her briefcase underneath. Her personal assortment of ferns, potted palms and fichus grouped around the small room offered welcome relief from the austere gold-and-black decor.
She tuned out the office chatter and sipped tea from her musical Elvis mug as she leafed through a stack of memos. The kiosk ATM machine was still jamming up. She sighed. How many trips would the service reps have to make before they fixed the darn thing?
"Ms. Beaumont?" Edwin Trask's pompous summons made her jerk her gaze up.
Her stocky, mustached boss marched into her office with another man in tow. The guy shuffled behind Trask , his slumped shoulders covered by a baggy olive suit that clashed with his purple shirt and yellow suspenders. A thick layer of goo slicked back hair of indeterminate color, and Coke-bottle glasses with square black frames shrank his eyes to pinpoints. He offered a shy smile, displaying prominent buckteeth. She stifled a groan. Not another Trask nephew!
Trask cleared his throat. "Carla quit without notice. This is your new teller, and he has impeccable references. I trust you'll train him with the usual efficiency."
Her vault teller had quit? Her stomach sank. If the newbie's I.Q. matched his fashion sense, they were all in serious trouble. She pasted a frozen smile on her face. "Of course." Mentally chiding herself for judging the man by appearance, she rose and offered her hand. "Tessa Beaumont."
He enfolded her hand in lean, warm fingers, and sparks tingled up her arm. What on earth?
She tilted her head, studying his face. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Oh, no! It couldn't be! She should have suspected shenanigans when Gabe sedately drove her to work in a beat-up mustard-yellow Pinto. Instead, she'd blithely swallowed his explanation of a low profile. When she'd asked him if he was moonlighting at Moore 's pre-owned car emporium, he'd grinned. He'd admitted the ' Vette was his, but his desperate-for-results boss had given him a generous expense account for rentals. Gabe had said he'd keep her in sight and she'd assumed he meant surveillance, like before.
Her mistake.
"Bond, Gabe Bond," he answered in a nasal twang, before flashing the wicked grin she knew so well, now partially disguised by buckteeth.
"Ms.