Читать книгу Captured by the Billionaire / Sold Into Marriage - Maureen Child - Страница 9

Two

Her eyes went wide and horrified and Gabe wasn’t ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he was enjoying this. He could almost see her thoughts flashing through her mind as her features shifted from amazed to confused to fury all in the blink of an eye.

Of course, being Debbie Harris, it didn’t take her long to erupt.

“Are you nuts?”

He laughed shortly. “Is that any way to talk to your jailer?”

She stepped back from the bars and stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. Shaking her head, she whispered, “You can’t be serious about keeping me locked up like this.”

But he was.

Gabe hadn’t seen Debbie in ten years and he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he hadn’t given her much thought in all that time. At least, he admitted, not until she and her girlfriends had shown up here on his island.

And from the moment he’d seen her, all he’d been able to think about was Deb. Irritating as hell, but there it was. He wasn’t a man to be led around by his hormones and it was lowering to admit even to himself just how much he wanted her. After all, he had a life. A plan. And she had no part in any of it. And yet…

He let his gaze sweep over the bars of the cell before sliding back to her. “Looks like I’m serious to me.”

She still looked damn good. The cute girl she’d been ten years ago had become a gorgeous woman. Her curves were lush, her long blond hair lay in soft waves down to the center of her back and her tanned skin was the color of warm honey.

He remembered the feel of her, the taste of her and as something like hunger surged through him, Gabe had to admit that keeping her here had probably been a mistake. Damn it, he could have been rid of her. She’d been at the airfield, leaving, walking out of his life again, yet when he’d been handed the opportunity—he’d had her stopped.

He still wasn’t sure why, exactly.

“What kind of game are you playing?” Her voice was just a hiss of fury.

“No game,” he said tightly. That much was true at least.

“Of course it’s a game,” Debbie countered. “Your guy at the airport said there was a problem with my passport. We both know that’s a lie.”

“Not a lie. Usually, it’s a ruse. Something the guards tell a suspect to keep them calm while they’re being transported here.”

“A suspect?” She shrieked that last word and then stopped, looked at him hard and said, “What do you mean usually?”

Gabe wandered the jail area, looking around as if inspecting the cells to make sure they were just as they should be. “It seems,” he said quietly, idly, as if he couldn’t be less interested himself, “there’s a jewel thief working the resorts in this area.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

He smiled and let his gaze slide up and down her body before spearing into hers again. “This particular thief is about five foot four, long blond hair, blue eyes…”

She swallowed hard, shook her head and said, “You can’t possibly believe I’m a jewel thief.”

No. He didn’t. But when the notice from the British authorities had crossed his desk, he’d looked at it like a gift. Stupid. He couldn’t afford to have her here. Especially now.

But he hadn’t wanted her to leave, either.

One shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. “You do fit the description.”

“So do a lot of people.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling again. “But you’re here. On the island. And we were asked to keep an eye out for a woman matching that description and detain her if necessary.”

“Detain,” she repeated, her voice sounding a little hollow. “Here? In jail?”

“If you’re innocent,” he started to say.

“If?”

“If you’re innocent,” he said again, “I’m sure this will be cleared up in a few days.”

“Days?”

“Is there an echo in here?” he wondered out loud, hiding his amusement. “You’ll stay as a guest of Fantasies until the authorities have been notified and proper steps are taken.”

“What steps?”

He shrugged again and stared directly into her wide, scared eyes. “Fingerprinting, no doubt. You’ll have to be investigated.”

“You’re kidding me. You don’t seriously believe—” She moved up to the cell bars, grabbed hold of two of them and squeezed hard. “Gabe, you know I’m not a thief.”

“No, I don’t,” he said reasonably, enjoying the heat of her temper. God, arguing with Deb had always been fun. “For all I know, you are this master thief the British authorities are looking for.”

“British?”

He shrugged. “Apparently the thief ran through several estates in England before moving on to the island resort towns.”

“I’ve never been to England,” she argued.

Gabe smiled and turned to face her. “And I’m supposed to take your word for that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t risk allowing a wanted criminal to escape the island.”

“Oh, for—”

“So,” Gabe said, walking toward her again with slow, measured steps, “until we get this straightened out, you’ll be staying right here at Fantasies.”

“You can’t keep me here, Gabe.” She stopped dead at the far end of the cell and glared at him.

“You’re wrong about that.”

She gaped at him and started pacing again.

He leaned one shoulder against the cold, steel bars and watched her as she stalked the confines of her cell. The heels of her sandals clicked frantically against the cement floor and the look she shot him should have fried him on the spot.

“I’m not guilty of anything and you can’t hold me here against my will.”

“I can do whatever I want to, Deb. This is my island. I make the rules.”

“There are laws about kidnapping.”

He chuckled. “Nobody kidnapped you.”

She gritted her teeth, hissed in a breath and then spoke in a deliberately patient tone. “You can’t just hold a person in jail because you feel like it.”

He smiled, waved one hand to encompass the tidy jail cell and said, “Clearly, I can.”

Sighing, she slid one hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “What’s really going on here, Gabe? We both know I’m not this jewel thief, so why’re you really doing this to me?”

There were too many reasons, he thought, and scowled as the humor he’d found in the situation moments ago drained away. He didn’t owe her any more of an explanation than the one he’d given her. He had the right to hold her on the island until the authorities notified him otherwise. Still, if he kept her around for too long, things could get sticky.

He pushed away from the bars, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and said, “We can talk about this later.”

“No, there is no later. I have a plane to catch.”

“Actually, you don’t,” he said, watching her, “your plane’s gone.”

She just stared at him and Gabe almost felt a flicker of guilt. Almost. Then he remembered that one night ten years before, she’d walked away from him without a backward glance. And that memory was enough to steel him against the sheen of tears glittering in her eyes.

He only hoped it would be enough to help him hold out against the low, distinct throb of need pulsing inside him. “Look, as I see it, you have two choices,” he said quietly. “You can spend your time on the island here, in this cell…”

She swung her gaze in a wide arc, taking in her surroundings in a heartbeat. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It didn’t matter that the tiny jailhouse was a pleasant enough place. There were bars on the doors and windows and being locked away wasn’t a good thing, no matter how nice the accommodation.

Which is how he knew she’d choose door number two when presented with it.

“Or,” he said, meeting her gaze when she shifted it back to his, “you can come back to the hotel with me.”

“With you.”

“As the owner of the island, I can release you into my custody.”

“Custody.”

He grinned. “There really is an echo in here, isn’t there?”

“Funny.” Debbie watched him warily. “And if I’m in your custody, what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, his voice low and dark, “you would be staying in my suite. Where I can keep an eye on you, until the matter is resolved.”

“Why can’t I have my old guest room back?”

Because he wanted her close, damn it.

“A wanted criminal?” he countered, lifting one dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“We both know I’m not guilty of anything.”

“All I know is, you’re in jail and I’m in charge,” he said. “Up to you, Deb. Spend a few nights in a cell or come with me now.”

She looked from him to the cot behind her and back again. She studied his face and said, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” he countered, giving her a lazy smile that didn’t even try to disguise his amusement.

Debbie stared at him for another long minute. She could hardly believe any of this was happening. Gabriel Vaughn was the owner of Fantasies? The owner of his own, private island?

Ten years ago he’d had big plans and little else. Debbie had loved him madly back then, despite her own fears of a future that had looked shaky at best. Now, he was clearly more successful than even he had dreamed.

And she was literally at the mercy of a man who had every right to still be furious and bitter at the way she’d ended things between them.

This so didn’t look good.

Her mind racing, Debbie tried to slow her thoughts down and slide them into some kind of order. By all rights, she should be on a plane home, having a tropical drink right now, served by a smiling flight attendant. Instead she was standing in a cell, facing down the man she’d once thought she would love forever.

But the truth was, she thought as she looked at him on the other side of the bars, she couldn’t see anything of the Gabe she had known in the man watching her now. This man was cold. Even his smile was like ice.

She shivered, moved away from the cell door until the backs of her knees hit the quilt-covered cot behind her. Then she simply dropped to the narrow mattress and stared up at him. “I think I’ll stay here,” she said quietly.

Something in his green eyes flickered and she was pretty sure it was surprise. “You’d prefer a jail cell to the hotel?”

No, she thought wildly, somehow terrified of spending the night behind bars. “Yes.”

“Fine,” he said shortly, already turning for the door that led into the outer office. “If you change your mind, have one of the men call the resort.”

“I won’t change my mind, Gabe,” she called as he opened the door and stepped through.

He stopped, turned his head to look at her and said thoughtfully, “You said that once before. A long time ago. But you changed your mind anyway. I think you will this time, too.”

Then he left, closing the door behind him.

And Debbie was alone.

In the middle of the night, Debbie was wishing she were alone.

She sat up straight on her narrow cot and threw a furious look at the man in the adjoining cell to hers. The guards had brought him in an hour ago and he hadn’t been quiet for a moment since.

“We will, we will, rock you!” The best that could be said about his singing voice was that it was loud. The worst was, he kept running through every eighties song his blurred mind could recall. And the words he didn’t remember, he made up.

Debbie’s head was pounding and her eyes felt gritty. She was so tired she could hardly think and knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all. Not with the drunken lounge singer keeping her awake.

“Hey, honey,” the man crooned suddenly as he leaned on the bars separating their cells. “Got any requests?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “How about you shut up now?”

He grinned sloppily. “Don’t know that one. How ’bout ‘you’re just too good to be true…’?”

“Oh, God.” Debbie cupped her hands over her face and sighed heavily while she was serenaded. She couldn’t take this. Even facing down a cold-eyed Gabe would be better than being stuck in this cell with a drunk wannabe crooner.

Besides, there was no telling who the guards might bring in next. And with both cells occupied, the guards would start doubling up. Who knew who might be Debbie’s roommate by morning?

Mind made up, she jumped off the cot, crossed to the cell door and shouted, “Guard! Guard!”

She’d never thought she’d be in this position. It was like she was living an old movie. All she needed was a tin cup to rattle across the bars. She was humiliated and scared and tired, and all she wanted to do was to go home. But since she couldn’t at the moment, the hotel would be way preferable to life in a cage. Damn Gabe for being right.

When the security guard opened the door and looked in at her, she could have wept with gratitude. “Would you call Gabe for me? I mean, Mr. Vaughn?”

“What do you wish to tell him?” the man asked, pitching his voice to be heard over the strains of “Every Breath You Take,” now being slaughtered by Debbie’s cell mate.

She shot the drunk another furious glare, then turned back to the guard. “Tell him…tell him I changed my mind.”

* * *

Debbie stepped into Gabe’s suite at the hotel and could hardly notice any of the plush surroundings, since her gaze was locked on him. He wore nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms that dipped low over his hips.

His broad, bare chest was tanned and sculpted as if out of bronze. His long, dark-blond hair hung loose and was tousled enough to tell her he’d gotten out of bed to answer her cry for help. The lights in the room were dim and the sheer drapes were pulled open, allowing the moon and starlight to drift inside on a wash of silver.

“Thanks for bringing her up, Emil,” Gabe said, and shook the guard’s hand before seeing him out and closing the door behind him.

Debbie stood in the middle of the living area and dared not take her eyes off of Gabe for an instant. When he met hers, she read annoyance and pleasure in those dark green depths and found herself shifting uncomfortably beneath his steady regard.

“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “You were right. I changed my mind.”

He leaned back against the door, folded his arms across his chest and crossed his feet at the ankle. Studying her for a long minute, he said, “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Okay, good,” Debbie said, and finally took a moment to glance around her. “Just tell me where to sleep and I’ll get out of your way.”

“My room’s through there,” he said, pushing away from the door and pointing to a door on the far side of the long room.

“Uh-huh. Where’s mine?”

He smiled. “With me.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Debbie said, shaking her head. “I didn’t agree to—”

“Dial it down, Deb,” he cut her off quickly. “Like I said, it’s been a long day. I’m tired. I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t have one.” He started across the room, moonlight playing on his bare skin like a lover’s touch.

“Don’t have a—” She took a quick look. Chairs. Dozens of chairs sprinkled around the wide room, clustered in conversation groups, but no sofa. “What kind of a person doesn’t have a sofa?”

“Me. Now come on.”

“I’m not sharing your bed, Gabe.”

“To sleep, Deb.” He opened his bedroom door and scowled at her. “And you damn well are. I’m too tired to go chasing you across the island if you should try to escape.”

“I’m not going to escape.”

“Damn straight, you’re not. Now come on.”

Her insides squirmed uneasily. Sharing a bed with Gabe had not been a part of this deal. But she wasn’t sure how to get out of it and, damn it, she was tired, too. After all, he hadn’t been the one trying to sleep on a narrow, lumpy cot in a jail cell for the past several hours.

She started across the room, keeping her gaze fixed with his. “No false moves.”

He choked out a short laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, babe. You’re not that hot.”

“Thanks very much.”

“No more talking. Sleep now. Talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

She stepped into his bedroom and almost sighed. The room was huge, with an empty fireplace on one wall, a set of French doors leading to a wide stone terrace on another and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on a third. An open doorway led to what must be the bathroom, and moonlight drifted in through the terrace doors, laying an invitation across a bed as big as a football field.

Every cell in Debbie’s body groaned in anticipation. But as Gabe walked around the edge of the bed to the left side, she swallowed hard. He pushed those silk pajama bottoms down and off and stood there naked, watching her.

“Do you mind?” she said quickly, turning her gaze away, but not before her mouth went dry and her stomach did a quick spin and lurch. God, he was still gorgeous.

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but do you have to be naked now?”

He laughed, got into the bed and pulled the white duvet up over his hips. “Like I said, I’m tired. Now get into bed and go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep with you naked.”

“And I can’t sleep with me in clothes. Guess who I’m more worried about.”

“No guess required,” she muttered, and walked around to the other side of the immense mattress. Stepping out of her sandals, Debbie thought seriously about sleeping in her clothes, but then decided that would be stupid. It wasn’t as if Gabe was even interested in her. And if he did make a move, she could stop him.

Would stop him.

So keeping her eyes averted, she undid the button and zipper on her shorts and slipped out of them, letting them fall to the hardwood floor. Then she sat on the bed and swung her legs up.

“That’s it?” he asked in a low-pitched grumble. “You’re gonna sleep in your shirt and bra?”

“I’m very comfortable,” she lied, laying her head down on a feather pillow that felt like heaven.

“Right. Whatever.” He blew out a breath, rolled to one side and warned, “Don’t try to leave the room, Deb. I’m a light sleeper.”

“I remember,” she said softly into the silvery darkness. Whether he heard her or not, she couldn’t be sure. And a moment or two later, she didn’t care. She fell into sleep like a rock dropping into a well.