Maureen Child - Captured by the Billionaire / Sold Into Marriage - Captured by the Billionaire / Sold Into Marriage

Swallowing hard, she said, “Thank you for the dress, Gabe. Really. It’s beautiful. But—”

“If you’re about to tell me I didn’t have to do it, save your breath.” He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her into the crowded club. “I wanted you here tonight and you needed something appropriate.”

Meaning nothing she’d brought with her would do. Well, hard to be insulted by the truth. But still, it irritated her to have to acknowledge it.

“Thanks, anyway.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked down at her, smiled again and Debbie’s knees went a little wobbly.

A simple hormonal reaction, she assured herself as he steered her toward the dance floor. Didn’t mean a thing. Then he pulled her into the circle of his arms and slid into the crowd of slowly moving people on the gleaming wood floor.

His arms felt good—right. She moved against him and memories crowded her mind. Memories of a slow dance with him on the Long Beach pier one cold, autumn night ten years ago. The moon had been out, casting shadows over them and the dozen or so people joining them on the pier.

The scent of the sea had whipped around their bodies, the sweet rush of love had flowed between them. He’d smiled at her then, just as he was now, and when he’d kissed her, she’d known she loved him.

“You’re thinking again,” he whispered, bending his head to hers so that his voice and his breath caressed her ear, sending another shiver over her body.

“Just…remembering,” she said, her hand on his shoulder tightening, to help her balance.

“The pier.”

Her head tipped back and she stared up at him, surprised somehow, that he’d allowed himself that memory. Hadn’t he made a point in the last couple of days, of telling her that he had no interest in the past?

“You remember?”

He moved her into a slow turn, his arm about her waist squeezed, pulling her closer to him. Close enough that she felt the hard ridge of his body pressing into hers.

“Just because I don’t want to think about the past doesn’t mean I’ve lost the memories.”

“They’re good memories,” she said, and watched sadly as the shutters dropped over his eyes again. He was still here, with her, but his emotions had closed down, shutting her out, shutting out anything that might have been warming between them. And something inside her was sorry for it.

He stared at her, his gaze moving over her face with the sureness of a touch. “Not all of them.”

“No,” she admitted, hardly noticing the blur of motion from the dancers moving past them. They were nothing more than a wash of brilliant colors, blending together into a swirl of distraction. “But most of them are good, Gabe. Do we have to lose it all because of the way it ended?”

“I found out a long time ago that it’s better that way. Cleaner.”

His arm still held her close, belying the distance in his words. “But emptier.”

“The present’s full enough for me,” he countered.

“Is it?” She tore her gaze from his long enough to look around the crowded club, to take in some of what he’d built before meeting his gaze again. “You fill it with people like the brunette in the red dress and that’s all you need?”

His mouth quirked. “You jealous of the brunette?”

“Oh, please.” Irritation spiked because, yes, she had been jealous, even if it hadn’t lasted long. “If those boobs are real, I’ll eat my pretty new dress.”

He laughed out loud and the sound of it rolled over the music and settled over her like a blessing from the past. God, she’d loved the sound of his laughter. And his smile had always been enough to light up every corner of her heart. How could she have forgotten? Self-preservation, that’s how, she reminded herself. If she’d spent the last ten years remembering what she’d given up, she’d never have been able to be happy.

“Ashley Strong is a very nice woman.”

Debbie gasped and looked past his shoulder as if she could spot the woman. “That was Ashley Strong? The actress?”

“You didn’t recognize her?”

“No.” And she didn’t see her now. Debbie’d been too busy being sickened by the woman’s blatant attempt at seduction to pay much attention to who she might be. She looked up at Gabe. “But now I know for sure those boobs aren’t hers.”

He laughed again and swept her into a wide turn, his hand firmly on the small of her back. “Damned if I haven’t missed that smart mouth of yours, Deb.”

“You missed me?”

His smile faded and the shutter over his eyes snapped into place. “For a while, I missed you with every breath I took. But it’s different now.”

“Maybe,” she said, and held on to his shoulder tightly. “You say your present’s very full. Yet I watch you working the crowd, Gabe, and I see you surrounded by all of these people, but you’re not actually connected to any of them.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re here, but you keep yourself separate from everyone else. I can see it in your eyes.”

He frowned at her now and the arm around her waist eased off just a little. “You used to know me, I grant you that. But it’s been a long time, Deb. I’m not the man you knew. You should trust me on that.”

The music ended and without another word he guided her across the floor to the owner’s table, set in the shadows along the far wall and closed off from the rest of the guests. She slid in, then watched him as he took his place beside her. There was an open bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket waiting for them. Gabe reached for it, filled two crystal flutes and handed one of them to her.

“So what do you say, you let go of the past and take me as I am today.”

“I thought I was.”

“Not really.” He turned the flute in his long fingers, stroking the fragile crystal stem with concentration enough to make Debbie remember how it had felt to have those fingers moving over her skin. His gaze turned to hers. “You see me, but you also see the shadow of a man who once loved you.”

Those words jabbed at her insides like thorns pricking her skin.

“I’m not that man anymore.”

“I know that.”

“I wonder.”

She took a sip of champagne, letting the icy froth caress her dry throat. Around them, the club patrons partied, oblivious to the whispered conversation flowing in the shadows.

“Oh, I know you’re not that Gabe.” Debbie looked at him and said, “If you were the man I remember, you would have been doing more to help me out of this mess.”

He eased back against the red-leather banquette. Lifting one arm to drape along the back of the booth, he turned in his seat to face her completely. His features were smooth, even, betraying nothing of what he was feeling. “I told you it would take a few days.”

“You haven’t heard anything new?”

He paused, took a drink of champagne, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“And you haven’t tried.”

“Are you under the impression I’m trying to keep you here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Debbie admitted. “But I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me.”

“You’ve a suspicious mind,” he quipped. “Strange, I don’t remember that about you.”

“And that’s not really an answer,” Debbie countered, tipping her head to one side to study the elegant, sexy man sitting so close to her. “You talk, but you don’t really say anything. I don’t remember you being so…flexible.”

He laughed shortly, set his glass down and leaned in toward her. His eyes became the world. Those deep, green eyes that had once captivated her, that had once held all of the world she’d ever wanted.