The Billionaire's Matchmaker: An Indulgence Anthology (Entangled Indulgence)

by Barbara Wallace

  The dog stopped circling and trotted over to Gabby, his whip-thin tail beating a furious pace behind him. He plopped down on the stoop, as innocent-looking as a red-handed burglar.

  The butler glared at the brown and white terrier, then reached into the breast pocket of his black suit and exchanged the handkerchief for a slim piece of paper. “Mr. Bonaparte trusts you will find this amount adequate recompense for watching St. Clair Charles Osgood.”

  Gabby’s brain stalled, trying to process the zeroes on the end of the check. She was the typical starving artist, living in a third-floor walk-up in a renovated Victorian a couple blocks from downtown Chandler’s Cove, renting a drafty studio because her one-bedroom apartment was too small for anything more than a double bed and a fridge. She drove a Toyota nearly as old as she was, had forgotten what the word vacation meant, and maintained a savings account bordering on anemic. “This is a lot of money. Just to watch a dog?”

  “Mr. Bonaparte wanted his dog in the hands of someone he trusts while he travels to Europe. And…” Cyrus lowered his voice, “that dog is a…spoiled handful. If he was left here, I rather suspect the staff might do something that might…well, let’s just say annoy those PETA people.”

  Gabby bit back a laugh. True, the little dog did have a penchant for getting into trouble, while Mr. B. seemed to be an indulgent owner who didn’t mind his dog’s wild antics. Charlie was like a two-year-old on a perpetual sugar high. But when he calmed down and laid his slim body at Gabby’s feet, he could be positively lovable. Plus, she had to admit she kinda liked his company.

  Not to mention the check would mean she wouldn’t have to drive a complete stranger across the country. Soon as she left Mr. B.’s, she was taking that ad down. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’m going out of town for a couple weeks but I can take Charlie with me if that’s okay with Mr. Bonaparte.”

  “I’m sure whatever is convenient for you will be fine with Mr. Bonaparte. Let me just say, on behalf of the entire staff, that we appreciate you accepting this job.” Relief loosened the butler’s stiff features. “Thank you again, Miss Wilson.” Then he shooed the dog out of the house and shut the door.

  “Wait! Is there any special—”

  The door opened again and the butler plopped a crystal studded leash, several outfits, a porcelain dish and a bag of dog food into her arms. “Enjoy your time with that dog.” The last two words sounded like a curse. Then he shut the door again. Fast.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” Gabby said. Charlie barked in agreement then fell into place beside her, eager, happy and ready for whatever path they chose. About the same way Gabby felt right now, with the check in her pocket and a second chance at her career lying just down the road.

  But in the back of her mind, the mysterious reappearance of T.J. lingered, like taffy stuck on the roof her mouth, daring her to take a taste.

  Chapter Two

  The woman who had stolen T.J. Shepherd’s heart at the Andrew Jackson High School Sweetheart Dance stood outside the Shop ‘N Save market, a Jack Russell terrier parked at her feet, and that sweet mix of frustration and confusion he had seen before all over her face. He knew exactly where that look came from, because he’d caused it. More than once.

  Heck, he’d seen it earlier today when she’d stared at him like an alien. He knew he’d changed in the years since he’d left Chandler’s Cove, but he didn’t think he’d changed that much.

  But Gabby—

  Wow, she still looked incredible, but with that adult edge that added a bit of sass to her lithe figure. Despite the January cold, his body warmed at the sight of her. Gabby Wilson. The one person he’d never forgotten.

  He hadn’t seen her in seven—no, eight—years, not since graduation when she’d dashed his hopes and broken his heart by making it clear he was a good friend, nothing more. He had high-tailed it for college on the west coast, determined to forget her. He’d gotten a hell of a tan and a hefty student loan tab, but his mind had never left Chandler’s Cove, or Gabby.

  She’d been right about how he had let her down. Every man had his regrets, and that topped T.J.’s list. Seeing her again had him wondering if he could set things right between them and maybe push the envelope to open the door to something more.

  That was why he’d returned to Chandler’s Cove. For Gabby. And a second chance—or a final good-bye. He’d spent too many years looking to fill the hole her absence had left in his life, when really only one thing would do. Gabby herself, and her wild, tempestuous spirit.

  In high school, he’d been too buttoned up, too cautious, too afraid of risk. He’d learned since he left Chandler’s Cove and the heavy thumb of his father’s rules that risk was the only way to get what he wanted. Which was what had brought him here, back to the town he vowed to never see again, to pursue the one woman he’d never forgotten.

  After he’d left Mr. Bonaparte’s house earlier, T.J. had an idea for how to get that time with Gabby he wanted, those uninterrupted hours to answer the question of whether she was the missing piece to his life, the one person who truly knew him and cared about him, rich or poor, nerdy or not, or whether his mind was clouded by the passing of time. So he’d come downtown, figuring this would be Gabby’s next stop. He’d been right.

  “Looking for something?” T.J. said.

  She whirled around, letting out a little gasp of surprise. “God, you scared me. You’re popping up everywhere I go today.”

  “Almost like it was meant to be?” He cocked a grin at her.

  “Or just really bad luck.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m all bad, Gabby.”

  Her green eyes danced. “That’s a matter of opinion, Mr. Shepherd.”

  Even in a thick winter coat and jeans that ended in zebra striped boots, she was beautiful. The cold bloomed pink in her cheeks, and her long blond hair peeked out from beneath a white fleece hat, a look saved from being ordinary by one rebellious streak of hot pink mixed into the blond and a chunky tri-colored necklace made out of recycled metals. No one would ever describe Gabby as traditional or dull.

  She’d been his polar opposite, a woman who challenged him to live outside the box and color the world with aqua and fuchsia instead of black and white. It was part of what had scared the hell out of him and at the same time, drew him in like a fly to a gossamer spider web. Even now, even after all these years apart and all these murky waters between them, he still wanted her as much as he had years ago. He’d been fooling himself, thinking he could forget her, because he hadn’t. Not one bit.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you earlier,” she said. “You look so different. So…” The pink deepened in her cheeks. “So grown up.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “Um, yes.” Her gaze swept over him again, and her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Very good.”

  Tension coiled in the space between them. T.J. took another step closer. The space between them heated.

  He had never forgotten her, never stopped wanting her. But did she want him? She had told him a long time ago they’d never be more than friends, but could he change that? There was only one way to find out. Take a risk. In the end, he’d either make a colossal fool out of himself or have a final resolution between them.

  “You know, after we talked, I got to thinking. I’ve got this job interview in California in a couple weeks.” A small lie, but no lightning struck him down, so he plowed forward with the story he’d concocted on his way over here, “and after my car died the other day, I’ve been debating how to get out there when I thought about you and your trip. So I came down here, and found your ad.” He held up the index card he’d pulled off the community bulletin board a few minutes earlier. “Right between Ernie Youngclaus’s ‘Good Manure Wanted’ and Henrietta Vincent’s ‘Handmade Lace Doilies for Sale’.” He shot her a teasing grin. “You’re in good company.”

  She reached for the ad, but he pulled his arm back. “Hey!”

  “Did you find someon
e to,” he dropped his gaze to the words, “‘head off on an interesting adventure across the country, complete with a stop at the ‘world’s largest ball of popcorn’?”

  She darted forward and plucked the paper out of his hands. “No. Yes. Well, sort of.”

  She seemed disconcerted, which surprised him. The Gabby he’d known had brimmed with confidence and self-assurance. He’d always been the one off-balance around her, until now. “Yes, no, sort of?”

  “Charlie is going with me.”

  A quick flare of jealousy mixed with disappointment rose in T.J.’s chest. Damn, he was too late. She’d found someone else, something he’d expected. Women like Gabby didn’t come along every day. Any man worth his salt wouldn’t let her get away.

  Well, T.J. had. But the circumstances had been…complicated.

  In his mind, his plan to reunite with Gabby had gone a lot better than this. Now he was unsure and hesitant, as if he was fourteen again, standing in the decorated high school cafeteria while a DJ spinned dance music. T.J. had stood in the room at that dance, brimming with desire for her, a desire he’d been afraid to express, afraid of risking rejection. Then four years later, when he’d finally gotten up the courage to express those feelings, she’d made it clear she didn’t feel the same and dismissed him like a pesky door-to-door salesman. Maybe returning to Chandler’s Cove had been a bad idea.

  Didn’t mean he hadn’t missed her like hell, though. He’d missed being with the one person in his life who knew him as he was—not as the mayor’s son, not as the workaholic CEO. As just T.J., plain, simple T.J.

  He had come to this town to see if that connection still existed. And he’d be damned if he’d let some guy named Charlie stand in his way. “It makes sense for us to travel together,” T.J. said, “since we’re going to the same place. Why don’t you let Charlie get his own ride?”

  She smiled. “I can’t exactly do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  He came another step closer, the ad still in his hands. “Ah, but that was always the best part about you. That you were complicated.”

  A shimmer of amusement shown in her eyes. “Why do you need a ride to California? Why not fly?”

  An opening, a chance. Not a big one, but he’d take her question as a possibility she was considering his offer. He could tell her the truth now—and risk losing her all over again—or finish the fib and pray that she understood later. The lies churned in his gut, but he thought of those simple days by the creek, the afternoon visits to the museum, all those times with Gabby, and forged forward with the rest of his fabricated story. “The, uh, interview isn’t a sure thing. It’s a…risky venture.”

  “You? Embarking on a risky venture?” She laughed. “That’s not the T.J. I knew.”

  “I’ve changed, Gabby. A lot.” He grinned. “I’m a regular adrenaline junkie now.”

  She laughed. “That I’d have to see.”

  “Then maybe we should go together to California. Catch up a little, save some money.” He pressed on, ignoring the twinges of guilt pinging in his gut. “I could fly, but my funds are limited and you know how expensive those last minute airfares are. Plus my grandmother loaded me down with some family mementos to truck with me.”

  She nibbled at her bottom lip, a gesture he’d seen a thousand times when they were younger. Now, though, the sight of her biting that tender flesh made him bite back a groan. “Well, I could use help driving.”

  “What about Charlie? If he’s along for the ride, surely he’ll help with the driving?”

  She laughed. “He can’t drive. For one, he doesn’t have opposable thumbs and for another,” she gestured toward the space beside her feet, that laughter lighting in her green eyes, dancing on her face, “he’s a dog.”

  Dog? Then TJ made the connection with the terrier waiting patiently by Gabby’s side. Behind the dog, on one side of the store was a painted mural of a bucolic park scene, which somehow seemed apt for the Jack Russell. “This is Charlie? Your dog?”

  “Not mine. Mr. Bonaparte’s. I’m dog-sitting for a few weeks. That’s what he hired me to do. That meeting wasn’t about art after all.”

  T.J. exhaled with relief. He hadn’t realized until then how much he’d been counting on Gabby being available and willing to make this trip with him. For months, he’d been feeling this longing to return to his roots. No, not his roots—the unfinished business he’d left in Chandler’s Cove.

  Unfinished business named Gabby.

  All these years, he’d left that one story incomplete, a loose end that threaded through his thoughts. Had he missed his chance with her years before because he hadn’t taken a big enough risk? If he tried again with Gabby, would the results be different this time? There was only one way to know.

  “I’d love to hitch a ride with you. It’ll be just like old times,” he said, taking a step closer, and thinking that was the last thing he wanted was old times and the way things used to be, “you and me together, walking on the wild side.”

  She raised her chin and met his gaze. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m a respectable tax-paying citizen now.”

  “Pity,” he said, while the urge to kiss her and be with her, to be part of her world again, raged inside him, “because you being rebellious was the highlight of my days.”

  A smile curved up one side of her face, a smile that told T.J. there was still hope, still a connection, and maybe a little of the old Gabby left after all. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint you, but I’m not planning on ending up in jail on this trip.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, meeting her deep green eyes with his own. “Neither do I. I told you, Gabby. I’ve changed.”

  She gave him a long, assessing gaze. “That remains to be seen.”

  T.J. figured he had hundreds of miles to change her mind about him, and to make up for letting her down in the past. He could only hope they didn’t run out of road before he could make everything right again.

  Chapter Three

  Gabby regretted the decision to let T.J. ride along almost the instant she agreed. This was the guy who had disappointed her, hurt her, the one who used to be her best friend then proved the opposite. Why was he back in town? Why this sudden interest in her? And why was she alternately dreading and anticipating the next few days together?

  They were opposites. Always had been, always would be. Wild, unpredictable Gabby and nerdy, practical T.J. They might have been friends once but anything more than that would be insane. Then why had her body reacted with the instantaneous ping of a coin with a metal detector?

  She flicked a glance at T.J.’s profile, outlined by the sun and white snow-covered landscape seen through the passenger’s side window. Damn, he was handsome. Sexy. Desirable. How had she never noticed it before? Was it because he’d ditched the glasses and opted for contacts?

  No, it was more than that. It was the way he carried himself with self-assuredness. The geeky, shy kid she knew in high school, the same one who had tempered her wild side with his voice of caution and restraint, had been replaced by a man who knew his place in the world. That kind of confidence was…intoxicating. It had her looking at T.J. as a man, not as an old friend from high school. And the part that noticed him as a man…

  Well, that part kept her pulse racing and a simmering heat brewing in her gut. More than once since she first saw him outside of Mr. Bonaparte’s mansion, she’d had to push aside the image of him kissing her, touching her, taking her to bed—

  This is T.J., she reminded herself. Plain old T.J. About as exciting as buttered bread.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. T.J. might have been practical and bookish, but he’d always had this edge to him, as if there was a door he was keeping shut. It had intrigued her and attracted her and driven her to get him to open up, to let her in. But when he’d wanted more, wanted a real relationship, the scared rebel in her ran.

  Truth be told, he’d always been more exciting and attractiv
e to her than she’d admitted to him, or to herself. She’d missed him over the years. A lot. But she’d be damned if she’d admit any of those things to him now, especially after the years of silence.

  Charlie had his little head propped between the bucket seats, his tail thwapping a happy beat against the leather while T.J. scratched him behind the ears. Clearly, T.J. already had the Charlie stamp of approval.

  “He doesn’t like men too much,” Gabby said. “You’re one of the few I’ve seen him warm up to.”

  “He must be an outstanding judge of character.” T.J. grinned.

  “Or a sucker for potato chips.” She gestured toward the bag T.J. had opened a little while ago. “Mr. B would have a heart attack if he knew you were feeding Ruffles to St. Clair Charles Osgood.”

  T.J. rubbed Charlie’s head. “We’ll keep that between us, won’t we, buddy?”

  Charlie yipped and pressed his head against T.J.’s arm. His tail tap-tapped agreement.

  “If all it takes is some fried potatoes to warm up to me…” T.J. said, tipping the bag in her direction, “would you like some potato chips?”

  The scent of salty chips teased at her senses. She dipped into the bag, popped a couple of chips into her mouth, and tried not to picture warming up to T.J. over a lot more than a snack. She cleared her throat and focused on the road. “If you’re not careful, I’ll eat the whole bag. I love chips.”

  “Oh, I remember, Gabby.”

  A few words and she was whipped back in time, to a spring afternoon, when the scent of fresh cut grass hung in the air and the skies were filled with hope and possibilities. She had stayed after school, just her and T.J. in the chemistry lab, while he tried to explain the intricacies of balancing equations. “Who would have thought back then you could make chemistry understandable with a bag of chips?”

  He chuckled. “Well, it would have gone better if you hadn’t kept eating them. I’d put down two for oxygen, then turn around to only find one left.”

  “I wanted to keep it balanced.” She grinned. “But seriously, if it wasn’t for you, I never would have passed that class. I’d probably still be in high school today.”