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

by Barbara Wallace

  He glanced at her, remembering their kiss earlier today. A rush of desire roared through him all over again and he knew why he’d come back to town, to try again with Gabby. She had taken off her coat in the warm interior of the car, leaving her in the simple attire of a V-necked T-shirt and jeans. On any other woman, it might look boring or dull, but Gabby’s curves made the V an enticing peek at her cleavage, while the jeans outlined strong thighs and sweet hips.

  Gabby was sweet danger and hot temptation. That—mingled with her being the only person he’d ever opened up to and allowed a glimpse into his true self—gave them a connection he had tried like hell to deny and couldn’t anymore. Every time he looked at her, he wanted her, not just in his bed but in his life.

  “Watch out. You almost hit the curb there.”

  He jerked the wheel back, overcompensating for the near miss, and sending Charlie sliding across the back seat. “Sorry. My mind wandered for a second.”

  “Fantasizing about gigabytes and RAM again?” She grinned.

  “Something like that.”

  “Is that what you did for a side business in college? Computer stuff?”

  He chuckled. “I thought you hated when I talked about hard drives and programming codes.”

  “I did. I was being polite.” She grinned.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. And leave out all the boring parts.” He paused a second. “There. Story done.”

  She laughed at that. “So I take it if you’re traveling to California for a job, then the small side business is no more?”

  He could tell her the truth, that the small side business had grown into a giant, multimillion dollar firm, but if he did, then he’d have to admit he could easily afford a trip to California, which would take away his excuse for being with her. So instead, he fudged a little white lie. “It’s definitely not a small side business anymore.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry, T.J.” She pointed toward a paved lot on the side of the road. “We’re here.”

  Perfect timing. He parked the car and they got out. Charlie tugged on his leash, eager to explore, to try on this new world. He kept peeking over his shoulder, as if making sure both of them were following him.

  “This park is amazing,” she said. “Almost seven hundred acres of prairies and woodlands. And that, over there, is the remains of an old federal treasury building. It’s so unique, especially in this setting. I think I’ll start here,” Gabby said, dropping her camera bag and tripod on the ground then pointing toward a quartet of concrete pillars that looked like second cousins to Stonehenge. Two stood complete, with Grecian style caps, while two others had lost part of their height, as if some giant had tripped over them on his way toward the pond, leaving the stony remains scattered on the ground below.

  Gabby brought her camera up and sighted the pillars. Her face took on a serious cast, her mouth an all-business line. He’d always loved this side of her. She became determined and somber when it came to her art, her concentration only on her creation. He respected that about her. He always had loved to watch her work.

  Charlie strained at the leash, barking and nipping at her leg. She waved a hand at him. “Charlie, quit it, I want to get this shot.”

  The terrier jerked left suddenly, yanking the leash out of T.J.’s hand. Charlie scrambled down the trail, disappearing around a curve, the crystal studded leash trailing like a kite. T.J. took after the dog, while behind him Gabby cursed and got to her feet, grabbing her camera case. The two of them hurried down the path until they spied the brown and white terrier. They called out to him, but instead of coming back, Charlie turned back, let out a little bark, then ran off again, picking up speed this time. “What’s with this dog? It’s like he wants us to go somewhere special.”

  “Yeah, the road that leads to Drive-Us-Crazy.”

  T.J. laughed. “No, look at his path. No diverging to hunt a squirrel or peek under a shrub, straight on to his destination.”

  She groaned. “I don’t have time for this. I have a schedule to keep and a whole lot of pictures left to take. The gallery wants unique representations of Americana, not the brown and white rear end of a—”

  Charlie’s paws were propped against the side of a giant statue of a bison. A long white strip of flat, pristine, snowy lawn ran behind the statue, flanked by dark green pines lining the sides. The sun was starting to set, casting the sky in rich hues of blue, offset with puffy white clouds. A unique representation of Americana. Charlie was either one smart dog or one lucky puppy.

  “This is perfect,” Gabby said.

  “I think it just got better,” T.J. whispered. He pointed toward the tree line.

  A real bison stood to the edge of the trees, watching them, wary, as still as his bronze counterpart. Gabby moved slow and easy, setting up her camera, framing the shot of the fake and real animal. Just before she pressed the button, Charlie scrambled up onto the bison statue, and laid down between the bronze animal’s massive forelegs. Gabby clicked the picture, then tried to call Charlie down from the statue, but the dog stayed, resolute.

  “Seems he’s a bit of a ham,” T.J. whispered to her. He was close behind her, watching her work, mesmerized and intoxicated. The moment seemed magical, with Gabby composing her shot, Charlie holding his pose, and the air crisp and fresh with possibilities.

  “One more shot of him and then hopefully he gets down. I want to get this before,” she pressed the camera button again, “the real bison leaves.”

  As if he’d heard her, the massive animal shifted his weight, then headed back into the woods. Gone. Gabby cursed.

  Charlie jumped down from the statue and trotted over to Gabby’s feet. He plopped his little butt down and looked up at her, happy with himself. T.J. bit back a grin.

  “You are trouble,” she said. “Now stay and let me see if that bison comes back.”

  Charlie stayed, the leash firmly in T.J.’s grip this time. Gabby and T.J. waited, her camera at the ready, but the bison never returned. The sun sank behind the trees and the shot was lost. Gabby finally admitted defeat and packed up her stuff. “That darn dog keeps getting in the way. If I was at home, I’d have my photo editing software and I could airbrush him out of the shot, but all I have is my laptop with me, and it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles.”

  T.J. stopped in front of her and placed a hand on her arm. “You have great instincts. I was watching you work, totally in awe.”

  She scoffed. “I took a few photos. It’s no big deal.”

  “No, you created magic. I saw what was on the camera’s screen and it was…amazing.” She glanced away, and shifted her weight.

  “You make me sound like a cross between Picasso and Ansel Adams.”

  He kept his touch on her arm, wanting to hold her and shake her at the same time until she saw what he saw. “Why don’t you believe in you like I believe in you?”

  She exhaled. Charlie pulled at the leash to nose around a shrub, his tail wagging at whatever he’d discovered in the snowy space beneath the greenery. “In my line of work, it’s easier to believe the negative stuff. I’m working through it, though. Or trying to.”

  He could see the doubt and fear in her eyes, those twin demons to so many artists. She’d always been so reluctant to trust in her gift, and most of all, to trust another person. “Don’t be so afraid to take a risk, Gabby.”

  “Me?” she scoffed. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Maybe not afraid of breaking a couple property laws or taking on a challenging art piece. I’m talking about life. Love.” He shook his head and closed the distance between them. “I know all about being afraid to take a risk.”

  “You? What risk did you ever take? Everything you’ve ever done has worked out, T.J. You had straight A’s, went to college—”

  “Tried to date you.”

  She glanced away. “T.J. that was a long time ago. I was young. Immature. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

  “What about now? Do you know what you want now?” />
  She didn’t meet his gaze. “I just want to finish this trip and get my career on the right track.”

  “And after that? Will you still be taking risks?”

  She laughed. “Art is all about risk, T.J.”

  “I’m talking about another kind of risk. The one…” he said, raising his hand to her cheek, aching to kiss her again, “with me.”

  …

  The dog had impeccable timing, T.J. had to say. The minute the words had left his lips, Charlie interrupted them by shaking the snow on his fur onto their legs. Gabby had used that as an opportunity to head back to the car, punch in the GPS coordinates of the motel they were staying at that night, and get back on the road.

  She’d started chatting as soon as the car was in gear, spouting facts about the state of Nebraska, the sites she hoped to see as they made their way to California, her excitement about the possibility of having a show in Chicago. In short, she talked about everything but what had happened earlier that day when they’d kissed or what he’d said moments before.

  Every time he tried to circle the conversation back to the two of them, Gabby detoured into small talk. She was avoiding something but T.J. wasn’t sure what or why. The years apart had left him with a few pages missing from the book of Gabby. Maybe this trip hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe he was too late and their friendship would never be what it was—or become what he wanted it to be.

  That kiss had been something more, and he knew he hadn’t imagined Gabby’s reaction to his touch—a decidedly more heated reaction than the one he’d gotten years ago. Still, her hot/cold reaction today had him wondering if this was going somewhere or if he was just grasping at straws.

  They pulled into the motel’s parking lot around seven. A hip-roofed diner sat next door, with a blinking orange neon sign in the window advertising HOT EATZ. Between that and the dilapidated motel, T.J. opted to look at this as a chance to experience a little something outside his comfort zone.

  He glanced again at the rundown building, with its blinking VACANCY sign hanging askew in the front office.

  Okay, a lot out of his comfort zone.

  He thought of offering to pay for a room at a nice hotel in a big city, something with multiple stars, then remembered he was pretending to be poor. In truth, T.J. could afford to not just put them up at nice hotels during the trip, he could afford to buy those hotels. Could have taken the corporate jet to get him from Chicago to California. Could have taken this trip a hundred other more comfortable and faster ways.

  Ever since he’d made his first million, he’d realized something. The more money he had, the less satisfied he felt. He’d worked hard to get from where he had been to where he was now, yet still he found himself craving those simple days by the creek with Gabby. The two of them watching crawfish dart through the shallow water while they tried to count the silver minnows winking beneath the soft ripples of the gurgling brook.

  Every time he’d picked up the phone or clicked on an email to contact her, he remembered that night at the dance and how long it had taken for him to get over her rejection. He’d told himself to move on, to leave his past where it was, to find someone else. But every time he’d tried to do that, it was Gabby’s smile he saw and Gabby’s voice he heard.

  After this trip, he vowed, he would know for sure if they had a chance or if he was a hopeless idiot. Either way, he’d move on and forget about Gabby and those days they’d spent together. This motel was no babbling creek, and he doubted the diner sported any minnows in the décor, but Gabby was here and for T.J., that was enough for now.

  “Looks like a decent place to catch some sleep before we head to Wyoming tomorrow,” Gabby said. She shut off the car and reached for her purse. “Let me just get the rooms—”

  “I’ll take care of it,” T.J. said.

  Gabby’s hand covered his and something warm ran through his veins. “Hey, I understand what it’s like to be watching your pennies. I don’t mind paying for the rooms. I was planning on doing it anyway. Plus, I got this check from Mr. B. that I totally didn’t expect. I’m practically rich, or at least my version of rich. I’ll never be one of those wealthy elitists and that is totally cool with me.”

  He bit back a wince. How would she react when she found out about his success? He’d become one of the members of the “haves,” something Gabby had never much cared for. “I don’t feel right making you pay for me. It’s the least I can do to thank you for letting me hitch a ride with you.”

  “Okay, if you insist, but dinner’s on me.” She withdrew her hand and a shiver of disappointment replaced the warmth.

  The protective instincts in him wanted to take over, to make this road trip easier and more enjoyable for Gabby. He could buy her a car that ran instead of shook its way down the road, take her to a five-star restaurant, and put her up in a hotel that offered hot stone massages and butter-soft sheets. But he knew Gabby wasn’t a woman who would be impressed by those things. She liked the simple life, uncomplicated and ordinary, where she could get paint on the floor and set up an easel in the kitchen because the lighting was better. That was part of what he had liked so much in high school—when he was with Gabby, it was like he was home. Comfortable, and at ease.

  So he stuck with his plan—find out if the Gabby he remembered could fall for the man he was now and still see the man he used to be beneath the success. The real T.J., not the one with a hefty bank account attached to his name.

  In Chandler’s Cove, he’d been invisible. People in that town still talked about his father, adding T.J. as an afterthought to the conversation. T.J. had never wanted the public accolades his father had and had managed to keep his own success mostly off the radar by limiting media interviews and keeping his name out of press releases. All good choices, it turned out, for his cover story with Gabby. But he knew the lies would be that much more hurtful when he finally came clean.

  What had seemed like a good idea a few days ago now soured in his gut. Damn.

  “T.J.? Does that plan work?”

  He jerked his attention back to her and tried to stuff the guilty feelings away. “Sure, sure. Sounds great.”

  She smiled, and a part of him warmed deep inside. Damn, she had a nice smile. One that lit her features from within, sparkled in her eyes. For the hundredth time, he was glad he’d gone on this trip with her. However it all ended, he’d have the memory of her smile. “Deal.”

  A few minutes later, T.J. returned to the car. “Good news and bad news. There’s some big convention in town and every motel and hotel in a thirty-mile radius is booked.”

  She made a face. “What’s the good news?”

  “They had one room left.” He dropped a keycard into Gabby’s palm.

  She turned it over. “One room? But…but…we can’t… Where will you sleep?”

  “I’m not picky. I’ll just stay here.” He indicated the Toyota’s passenger seat.

  “T.J., it’s January. In Nebraska. You can’t sleep in the car.” She closed her palm over the key. “Listen, why don’t you share with me? We should be able to share a bed for a night and not have…anything happen.”

  “Even after that kiss?”

  Her face reddened and her gaze flickered away. “Well, we just won’t do that again.”

  “Because we’re grownups. Right?”

  “Exactly.” Gabby climbed out of the car and grabbed her backpack and overnight bag from the backseat. Charlie hopped down beside her, waited for his leash to get clipped on, then followed her to the room. T.J. trotted to catch up to them and held the door for Gabby after she unlocked it. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You know, you don’t have to play the gentleman thing with me,” she said. “I’ve known you forever.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be treated with a little chivalry.”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen any of that, I thought it was extinct.” She flashed him another of her smiles as she brushed past
him and into the room.

  T.J. stepped inside and shut the door before the cold invaded the space. Typical motel room—decorated in Early Depressing. Tan carpet, threadbare tan quilted bedspread, and a framed print on the wall that was supposed to be of happy red carnations and orange mums but had faded to colors that blended with the rest of the desert-colored décor. The air smelled of old buildings mingled with something like gym sweat. “Well, I’ll give you one thing. It’s better than sleeping in the car.”

  “Not to mention the great company you’ll have.” Her lips curved, and something in T.J.’s gut flipped.

  “There is that.” And it was a nice bonus, he decided.

  Gabby set her things on the faded mauve armchair in the corner, then shrugged out of her coat and kicked off the zebra boots. She stretched, arching her back, which thrust out her breasts and hips and sent T.J.’s mind down a thought train that began with foreplay and ended with fantasy.

  “I’m so glad to be out of the car,” she said.

  “Me, too.” He tried not to stare at the enticing cleavage exposed by the V in her T-shirt. His mind flashed an image of her beneath him, her body slick with sweat, skin soft and warm, as she arched her back and he slid into her—

  “Do you know Mr. Bonaparte well?”

  Her question jerked him back to reality. They were two friends sharing a room. Platonic. Well, almost platonic. Not after that unforgettable kiss. “I don’t know Mr. Bonaparte very well,” he said, remembering his ruse and the reason he’d given Gabby for needing a ride. He was supposed to be poor, unemployed, on his way to a job interview. Not meeting with wealthy men to talk about providing them with customized computer security solutions. “I’ve been thinking of getting into the security software industry, and he said if I was in the area to stop by and he’d talk to me about anti-hacking protections.”

  “Anti-hacking? Does he work for the White House or something?”

  “Defense contractor, I think. I don’t usually ask.”