Sleeping Beauty's Billionaire Read online

  Gavin brought the Porsche to a stop, staring at the building he’d deliberately avoided for more than sixteen years. He braced, waiting for the familiar sense of shame and disgust; instead, all he felt was a sort of sadness for the boy he’d been.

  The discovery was oddly liberating. “See that?” he said to Brett, nodding at the neglected building.

  “Yeah.”

  “When I wasn’t in emergency foster care, that’s where I lived the last few months of high school. It’s pretty typical of the sort of places my mom and I called home over the years.”

  Lips pursed, the boy considered a moment, then turned to Gavin and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “So? You don’t live there anymore.”

  Gavin met his gaze straight on. “And nobody’s more thankful than I am for that. But the point is, I do have some idea of where you’re coming from. I realize we haven’t gotten off to the best start, but I’d like another chance.”

  Brett turned his gaze back to the crumbling tenement. He was silent so long and his expression was so blank that Gavin was on the verge of losing hope by the time the boy finally gave an elaborate shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

  Relief flooded Gavin, but he knew better than to show it. “Good.” Doing his best to match the kid’s offhand manner, he put the car into gear and headed back the way they’d come. He turned onto Central and within a few minutes had reached Market Street. Pulling into the first open spot he saw along the curb, he let the engine idle and glanced over at Brett. “You like basketball?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Would you be interested in going to Saturday’s Celtics game?” Tied for the lead in the Atlantic Division, the Celtics were playing the Knicks, their longtime rival. The game had been sold out for weeks.

  True to form, the boy did his best to look blasé, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes he couldn’t disguise. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Okay. I’ll check the game time and give you a call, all right?”

  “Sure.” Brett shoved open the car door and climbed out onto the sidewalk. He took a step, then hesitated. Squaring his shoulders, he turned and ducked his head so he and Gavin were eye level. “I don’t…that is, well, thanks. For dinner and—” he made a vague, all-encompassing gesture “—stuff.”

  “No problem.”

  A sudden gust of wind blew the teen’s dark hair into his eyes and he impatiently shoved it away. “And, uh, if you’ve gotta plan ahead or something, I guess it’d be okay if you picked me up on Saturday. If you want.”

  The admission amounted to a display of trust, and Gavin knew it. Encouraged, but aware that to show it would be a major breach of ’hood etiquette, he merely nodded. “Sure.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll see you.” With a brief nod, Brett straightened and walked away.

  Gavin watched him go, filled with satisfaction. Hell, who was he kidding? If he’d been twenty years younger, he’d have been tempted to punch the air with his fist.

  Instead, he reached for his cell phone, only to stop midmotion as reality struck. Just who did he think he was going to call? He couldn’t think of a single one of his high-powered friends who’d understand what he was feeling. Particularly when he had no intention of discussing what passed as his childhood with them.

  He shook his head at his own foolishness, telling himself to grow up and forget this uncharacteristic urge he had to share what had just transpired. After all, it wasn’t as if he had any options. Did he?

  It was an unfortunate question, he realized the instant a certain female image sprang to mind. Scowling, he put the Porsche in gear, waited for a break in traffic, then pulled into it.

  No way was he going there.

  Was he?

  The harsh burr of the doorbell gave Colleen a start.

  Stretched out on the faded imitation-Persian rug before the fireplace in her living room, she brought her head up at the urgent sound.

  Outside, the wind was putting on a show, perfectly still one second, tossing raindrops against the windowpane and plucking fretfully at the sashes the next.

  Inside, everything was peaceful, herself included. If the phone calls she’d received in the past few hours from various adults and kids were any indication, the mentoring program was going to be a success.

  She’d love to take credit, but she knew who was truly responsible, and was thankful to Him for His guidance and for helping her make wise matches. Not to mention—she gave a slight shudder as a spate of sleet tattooed the courtyard—seeing fit to hold back the storm until after the meeting.

  The buzzer sounded again, and with a resigned sigh she rose to her feet. Her intercom had died a few weeks ago, and she kept forgetting to tell Mr. Crypinski. Hugging her arms to herself, she stepped out of her cozy apartment and into the chilly hall, catching a distorted glimpse of dark hair and the back of a leather jacket through the mottled glass of the entry sidelight. With a pinch of concern, she hurried down the hall and yanked open the door. “Brett?”

  Her visitor swiveled around. “No.”

  “Gavin!” How could she not have known? He was taller than Brett. Taller, broader of shoulder, narrower of hip. And in a category of his own when it came to being intensely, maturely, blatantly male. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah. I just thought I’d…report in.”

  “Oh.” Raindrops clung to his dark hair. She watched, distracted, as a bead of water surrendered to gravity, dropped from his hair onto his cheek, then lazily rolled to the edge of his jaw. “You’re soaked.” To her chagrin, her voice sounded a little hoarse.

  “Yeah. It’s coming down pretty good.”

  “You’d better come in.” Scooting back, she swiveled around, embarrassed by her reaction to him and praying he hadn’t noticed. Yet despite her chagrin, she couldn’t stop the tingle of awareness that tickled her spine as he followed her back down the hall and into her apartment. Heat painting her cheeks, she all but dashed to the bathroom.

  She snatched a bath towel off the rack, fighting the urge to bury her head in it. Really, Colleen! Grow up and quit acting like you’re seventeen.

  It was excellent advice. Determined to follow it, she let out her breath, straightened her spine and turned.

  And promptly bounced off Gavin’s chest as she found him blocking the doorway.

  “Oh! I didn’t know you were there!” Despite her good intentions, she was helpless against the pleasure that zinged through her as he reached out to steady her.

  Bravely, she ignored it, forcing herself to smile in the face of his dark, intent gaze. “I was thinking earlier how fortunate it was that the storm held off for the meeting. That everyone had time to get home before it really got ugly. But now here you are. All wet.” Heaven help her, but she was babbling. The last time she could remember doing that was when Mother Superior had walked in on her doing her impression of the bishop, complete with an exaggerated Irish accent and his trademark steepled hands. Unnerved, she began to blot the moisture from the front of Gavin’s jacket with the towel. “You must be freezing—”

  His hand came up, manacled her wrist. “I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

  She looked down at his long fingers. His skin was a shade darker than her own, his hands big but also elegant, his nails clean and clipped. For some reason, the sight of them made her even more acutely aware of the bathroom’s diminutive size. And of how close they were standing.

  And that she was anything but cold herself.

  She released the towel as if it was on fire. “Of course. I’ll…” Her voice failed for a moment. “I’ll just go make us some tea.” Sliding her hand free of his grasp, she sidled past him with every intention of bolting for the relative safety of the kitchen.

  “No.”

  The abruptness of his tone jerked her around. “I’m sorry?”

  His dark eyes were impossible to read. “Don’t go to any trouble for me. I don’t plan to be here that long.”

  “Oh.”


  “I just want to talk to you for a second about Brett.”

  “Of course.” She made a heroic effort to match his businesslike manner. “Why don’t we go into the living room?” Where you can warm up. And I can cool off. And where I’ll be able to put some space between us until I can control my juvenile reaction to everything you say and do.

  “Great.”

  She crossed the hallway and entered the front room, where she headed for the small, upholstered, isolated armchair placed at right angles to the couch. Sitting, she curled her legs beneath her and tried to focus on the fire. Yet the room was so small she couldn’t not see Gavin as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the umbrella stand inside the doorway. Or notice the way his well-defined biceps bulged and flexed beneath his thin black sweater as he rubbed his hair dry, finger-combed the silky strands into place, then tossed the towel on top of the jacket.

  He took a look around. “This is…nice.”

  Something about the way he spoke suggested that he was surprised, which for some inexplicable reason helped restore a little of her usual equilibrium. “Thank you. How did it go with Brett?”

  “Fine.”

  “Really?” Way to go, Colleen. Could you sound any more surprised?

  But rather than take offense, Gavin gave a sigh, his mouth twisting in a self-deprecating smile. “Actually, that’s a lie. Most of the night was pretty awful. I took him to the hotel, bought him dinner and did a first-rate job of making him feel out of place.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yeah. But then later, on the drive back, I decided to give something else a try.” He paced over to the windows, forcing her to twist around to keep him in sight. “I wanted him to realize that he and I do have some things in common… I showed him the place Lynette and I lived my last years of prep.”

  For a moment she couldn’t think what to say. While she’d known ever since being introduced to Gavin that he was from Jefferson Heights—he had, after all, been a scholarship student when Nick first brought him home and introduced him to the family—he’d always flatly refused to discuss specifics, much less show her or anyone else in her family where he actually lived.

  So what? Surely you’re not so petty you’d envy him and Brett the common bonds of youthful poverty and poor parenting?

  Of course not.

  “Did it help?” she asked with genuine concern.

  “Yeah. I think it did.” He turned, walked over and sat down on the couch. “At least he’s willing to give things another chance. We’re going to take in a Celtics game this weekend.”

  “Gavin, that’s wonderful!” Impulsively she reached out and gave his forearm a squeeze.

  The warm curve of muscle beneath her fingertips immediately went rigid, while his smile grew equally stiff. “I don’t know about that, but it’s an improvement over the mess I made of things earlier.” He glanced at his wristwatch, then abruptly stood, sliding free of her touch in the process. “Hell, look at the time. It’s after ten. I’ve intruded enough on your evening. I should get going.”

  What on earth was the matter with her? Every time he got the least bit close she either bolted or, worse, acted as if he were a sheet of paper and she a first-grader learning to finger-paint.

  She scrambled to her feet. “I’m the one who ought to apologize,” she said hastily, following in his wake like the tail on a kite as he strode over to get his jacket. “I should’ve told you more about Brett, made sure you understood how complicated he is. Not that he isn’t terrific, with so much potential, but—”

  “You don’t have to sell him to me, Colleen.” His voice unexpectedly curt, he stopped and turned. “If Brett wants me to, I’ll be there for him. And when I make a commitment, I keep it.”

  She jerked to a halt, stopped as much by his slight emphasis on I as her desire not to crash into him. Not sure whether he was alluding to her decision to leave the Church or their breakup or both or neither one, she felt his words nevertheless cut straight to her heart. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean…I wasn’t implying…that is, I wasn’t trying to insult your integrity. I’m sorry.”

  Their gazes locked and the sudden silence in the room was deafening. As if from very faraway Colleen heard the fire snap, followed by the faint scrape of a tree branch against the window.

  “Damn it, don’t look like that,” Gavin said fiercely.

  She wasn’t certain what it was he saw in her expression, but she was very certain she wanted to keep to herself the emotional turmoil he caused her. She lifted her chin. “I’m not. And don’t curse.”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do.”

  Having grown up with four brothers, she was fully versed in the folly of saying anything to the male of the species that resembled a challenge. Yet she couldn’t stop the imprudent streak that seemed to seize control of her tongue. “Or what?”

  His dark eyes hooded over. “Or this.”

  Clasping her upper arms, he lowered his head and in the next instant his mouth settled possessively over hers.

  Four

  The pleasure Colleen felt was immediate and stunning.

  Pinpricks of delight raced down her spine at the hard warmth of Gavin’s hands, the firm silkiness of his lips, the heat radiating off the solid angles of his muscular body.

  For half a second she wondered what she was doing. Then she realized she didn’t care. It had been so very, very long since she’d felt Gavin’s touch. Oh, how she’d missed it. How she’d missed him.

  She drank in his scent like a woman finding water after weeks in the desert. He smelled clean, like rain, shampoo and lemon drops, with a dash of something uniquely male that went straight to the core of her, making her feel weak in the knees.

  But then, he’d always had that effect on her, from the very first time Nick had brought him home. Standing unobserved on the upper curve of the front stairway, she’d watched as her teenage brother’s new friend had gotten his first glimpse of the sparkling floors and gleaming woodwork of her parents’ entry.

  As always, there’d been a tall vase of freshly cut flowers on the console table that faced the door. Though Nick had been too busy talking to notice it, she hadn’t missed the way the newcomer had reached out and hesitantly touched the creamy petal of a deep-throated lily. There’d been a sort of wistful reverence to the gesture that had called out to her, touching a place in her heart.

  As if he, too, had felt that tug of connection, Gavin had suddenly looked up. In the long moment they’d considered each other, Colleen had been overcome with an uncanny sense of familiarity, as if she’d always known him and understood his heart, his dreams, his strengths and vulnerabilities. Although she hadn’t understood what was happening to her at the time, years later at college, when she and Gavin had finally acknowledged there was more between them than mere friendship and a mutual affection for Nick, she’d realized she’d fallen in love with him at that very first meeting.

  Now it was years later—and nothing had changed.

  Crowding closer, she raised her arms and tangled her fingers in his thick hair. Her pulse jumped as her thighs brushed his and her breasts met the hard wall of his chest.

  She heard a soft little sound midway between a moan and a whimper, and vaguely recognized her own voice. Under different circumstances, with a different man, she would’ve been mortified. But this was Gavin. The only man she’d ever wanted. Without hesitation, she parted her lips for the probe of his tongue, savoring the bloom of heat that had her clenching her thighs as his tongue softly breached her mouth. With an instinct as old as time, she arched her back and crowded even closer, shivering with nervous wonder as the unmistakable thickness of his erection thrust against her.

  Only to discover, too late, that apparently she’d made a mistake.

  With a muffled curse, Gavin abruptly terminated their embrace and jerked away. “Damn it, Colleen! What do you think you’re doing?”

  She bit her throbbing lower lip, thinking the answer couldn’t b
e any more obvious if she’d held up a flashing neon sign that read “Wildly enjoying kissing you and thinking I wouldn’t mind doing more.”

  And yet it was clear from the look on Gavin’s face that would definitely not be an acceptable thing to say. Struggling valiantly to rein in her jangling senses, she tried to decide what would be a more diplomatic but still-honest answer. “I…your kiss…it caught me by surprise. I didn’t think that you…that is, I didn’t expect that I…and then, it just felt so—”

  He threw up a hand like a cop halting traffic, putting what Colleen could only view as a humane stop to the fit and start of her words. Her relief vanished, however, when he said, “This is all my fault. I was out of line to take advantage of your innocence that way. Way out of line.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I knew that, but I came, anyway. Now the best thing I can do is leave.” Shoving a hand through his already tousled hair, he twisted around and snatched up his jacket.

  “But, Gavin—”

  “I’m sorry, Colleen.”

  Without giving her a chance to say more, he strode to her front door, and had it open and was passing through it by the time her addled brain accepted that he really meant to go. “Gavin, wait!” She scrambled after him. Dashing out of the apartment, she raced down the hall and finally caught up with him in the entryway. “Please.” Although logically she knew she was incapable of physically restraining him, she reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulder, anyway.

  A shudder went through him at her touch and he spun around. “Don’t.”

  She snatched back her hand, startled by his vehemence. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aw, sh—” He clenched his teeth as he bit off the curse. “Do not apologize, Colleen. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Like I said before, I’m the one at fault here.”