His chocolate eyes narrowed, and I braced myself for an argument.
“I was hoping to go to the lake and ride my boat.”
“Not today, okay, Jule? Just lay low and stay by the house, but not in the front.”
“You don’t want me to see the neighbor?”
“I told you, Jule, we need to keep our heads down for a while. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be bothered either.”
“How do you know if we don’t talk to her?” he pleaded. He was so desperate to make friends, to speak with anyone other than me for once, but I couldn’t permit it—no matter how beautiful she was, or how much I wanted to see up close, even just once.
“Julian, I am your father. It is my job to keep you safe. If I tell you something, it’s for your own good, not because I am being a jerk, okay?”
“Whatever, Dad.”
He whirled around and stomped off, and I wondered if I was being too cautious about the girl next door.
An image of her soft smile and friendly wave crossed my mind, causing an unexpected rise of heat in my groin.
How long has it been since I’ve looked at a woman and felt an attraction? I wondered, the question shocking me.
The last thing I needed now was a distraction, no matter how attractive.
We were secure in our lake house; I had seen to that. I was not about to allow a stranger in.
Maybe if I learn about the family who owns the cottage first, I reasoned before abruptly wondering where my resolve had gone.
I shoved the thought aside.
The girl next door had no place in our lives—not today and not ever.
Chapter Three
Gabriella
“Miss Delancey?”
The old man peered at me over the tall counter, his myopic eyes watery and wide as I wracked my brain trying to recall his name.
He was the very same shopkeeper who had manned this store since my summers here all those years ago.
I felt like a jackass, knowing that he remembered me while I couldn’t even recall his name.
It came to me at once.
Roger. His name is Roger.
“You remember me?” I asked in surprise.
He chuckled toothlessly.
“I never forget a face as pretty as yours,” he replied smoothly. “Although I confess, I forget your first name.”
“Gabriella,” I replied, laughing. “And thank you for the compliment.”
“You got yourself a pretty sister, too—you aren’t twins, are you?”
“No,” I replied. “Krista is a couple years older.”
“Ah. Still, nice to have siblings close in age.”
Funny. I was just thinking how much I envy only children.
I continued to load the counter with purchases, waiting patiently as he rang up my groceries.
“You staying at the lake for a while?” he asked, noting the ever-growing pile with an arched eyebrow.
It was a loaded question.
My plan had been to stay for as long as it took to get my groove back, but after my encounter with the rude neighbor to my right, I wasn’t sure what I was doing.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I was a bit surprised to learn that a mansion had been built next door. I wasn’t really expecting company.”
Roger nodded wisely.
“Ah, yes. I heard about that place. Have you met them yet?”
I shook my head vehemently, my wavy hair swishing back and forth with the movement.
“Nope. And I’m sure I don’t want to, either.”
I paused as I realized that the shopkeeper might have some information on the miserable prick violating my childhood memories.
“What do you know about them?” I asked curiously, hoping to hear all the dirt.
What was the point of living in a small town, after all, if you couldn’t get in with the gossip?
Roger shrugged his ancient shoulders.
“Nothing,” he replied. “That place was built in record time. The owner hired outside contractors who claimed they had a contract with Ambrose Industries.”
It hit me then: the insignia on the gate. It was an Ambrose design.
That seemed odd. Ambrose Industries was known for their skyscrapers and golf courses, not mansions, but who knew? Real estate was not my forte.
A thought was tickling the back of my mind, but it was gone before I could capture it.
“You haven’t met the owners?” I asked casually, a new curiosity filling me. “They don’t come in? Haven’t been around town?”
Roger shook his head.
“Wherever they do their shopping, it isn’t here.”
They probably get everything delivered, I thought, but my interest was certainly piqued. As I loaded my car, I wondered why the man seemed to be hiding out in the middle of nowhere in the off season.
He had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want new friends—which was fine with me, because I also didn’t want new neighbors.
But I had a right to know who I was sharing a property line with, didn’t I?
What if there was a cult living in that mansion?
If there was some sort of communal living going on at that house, though, I might want to be a part of it.
A little voice questioned my motives, asking me if I would be as interested in the goings-on next door if the man living there was a gnarled hunchback instead and not so mysterious and gorgeous.
I didn’t bother pursuing my reasoning, only my desire to know more.
When I arrived back at the cottage, I unloaded my groceries into the freshly cleaned fridge. The first thing I had done upon arriving was scrub the cabin top to bottom before heading into town.
Dusk was settling, and I was starving.
Among the almost two hundred dollars worth of food I had acquired were eight Angus burgers and buns calling out for the grill.
Firing up the barbecue, I opened a chilled bottle of pinot grigio fridge and poured myself a glass, retreating to the backyard.
Plopping down into one of the Adirondack chairs that faced the lake, I extended my legs, cringing at how pale they seemed.
When was the last time you just basked in the sunshine without anything to do? You’re paler than Casper.
Fleetingly, I thought of the gleaming olive-toned skin of the man next door, and a hot flush tinged my ears.
My eyes traveled over to stare at the house, putting the wine glass to my lips.
As the liquid seeped down my throat, I was suddenly emboldened.
I had eight burgers, cold beer, wine, and the fixings for a salad. Maybe I had been too quick to judge him based off our one short interaction.
After all, I had been surprised to learn he was there. He’d probably been just as surprised to see me.
If he was alone, he might be interested in joining me for dinner. Who could say no to barbecue? Surely no red-blooded American man.
There was only one way to find out, so I swung out of the chair to my feet, swigged back the remainder of my wine for liquid courage and made my way around the side of the cottage toward the iron gate separating our properties.
An intercom perched inconspicuously at the side of the gate. I pushed the button, keeping my eyes trained on the house looming against the darkening sky.
The Mercedes was still in the same spot it had been since I’d arrived that afternoon, so I suspected my neighbor was home.
The house seemed more ominous in the fading light, but I knew it was just my imagination. There was nothing eerie about a brand-new house, especially not one with such a hunk of a man inside it.
Again, I was mildly surprised by the direction my thoughts were taking me.
It was uncharacteristic of me to have such a reaction to a perfect stranger. Hell—to anyone.
I had never even had a real boyfriend; relationships had always taken a backburner to everything else going on in my life.
Sure, there had been a handful of whirlwind dates, a few one-ni
ght stands, but honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I’d ever had a proper climax.
Sex would have been a distraction during school, and distractions are not something an honor student needed.
But now I found myself without exams and deadlines—without extreme pressure. I was just a single, bored girl with a hot neighbor.
It seemed like the perfect plot setup for softcore porn, and that thought gave me a foreign shiver of pleasure.
I waited with some impatience and jabbed my finger against the button again, but there was still no response.
Realizing that there was a camera in the box, I tilted my face toward it, offering my warmest smile in case he happened to be watching.
“Hi,” I called, feeling slightly foolish speaking to no one. “I’m Gabriella Delancey, your neighbor. I’m just grilling some burgers, and I thought you might want in on that. No pressure. You know where to find me if you’re interested.”
I wanted to add that I wouldn’t say no if he wanted to bring his own meat along, but I refrained.
He probably can’t hear me. He probably thinks I’m insane.
Dejected, I turned away, but just as I did, I saw movement in my peripheral vision.
I stopped, my head turning towards the second floor where a face stared at me through a window.
My heart caught in my throat as I realized that it was not the man I had seen before, but the face of a boy. His face twisted into an expression of discontent.
As if in slow motion, I gazed around the lot, expecting to see the owner of the house once more. But there was no one, just me and the kid in the glass, watching one another now.
I waved at him, fully expecting him to turn away. To my surprise, he waved back with a timid smile on his lips.
Okay, so this isn’t the Bates Motel. That’s good news.
I beckoned for him to come down, a spark of excitement filling me, as if I was on the verge of some enlightening discovery. That feeling only lasted a second as I watched the boy shake his head no, his smile fading.
Suddenly, his head whipped around, as if he was no longer alone.
He disappeared, leaving me to stare at the empty window in despair.
I couldn’t shake the sense that something strange was happening inside the house next door.
“Screw this,” I murmured, spinning back toward my house.
Grabbing my laptop, I slapped the burgers on the grill and reclaimed my seat on the patio at the back of the cabin. I was determined to find out who lived next door, and to learn why that boy looked so troubled.
It did occur to me that I was a little understimulated—that this sudden urge to play Nancy Drew was inspired by boredom, but it didn’t matter. When I had a mission, I had to see it through. It was just my nature.
I tried Googling “Lake Champlain,” “new builds,” and “Ambrose Industry mansions” at first. Nothing about the estate house showed, but I did stumble across article upon article about Mason Ambrose. My breath left me sharply as I found myself staring at a Forbes article and photo about the billionaire real estate mogul.
It was my neighbor.
“That’s why you looked so familiar. You are Mason Ambrose,” I choked aloud. “No wonder you slammed the door in my face. You probably thought I was the paparazzi or something.”
I was taken aback that I had not clued in sooner but seeing a beautifully ripped man in a casual, flimsy tee-shirt was entirely different than seeing his face plastered all over CNN looking professional and all business.
What is he doing out here? And who is the kid? His son?
While Ambrose Industries was a household name, I did not claim to know a great deal about the man behind the company. All I knew was that he’s filthy rich and among the biggest developers in America.
But that was what Google was for: information.
Before I could put my fingers back to work, I heard a movement at my back, and I jerked my head around. It was only then that I realized that darkness had completely fallen while I’d been busy cyberstalking my billionaire neighbor.
“Who’s there?” I called, my voice quavering slightly when I didn’t see anyone. I had not yet lit the yard tiki torches, and the only light illuminating the back deck was that of the kitchen light.
I looked around for a weapon, feeling incredibly vulnerable.
“Show yourself!” I cried with more confidence than I felt. “I have a gun!”
“Don’t shoot!” a young voice squeaked. “Please! I only came to meet you.”
I exhaled, flopping back against my chair as the boy from the window appeared.
Laughing shakily, I shook my head. “I don’t really have a gun,” I assured him, smiling. “See?”
I showed him my hands, and he sighed in relief.
“Hi. I’m Gabriella Delancey. Have a seat.”
He eyed me uncertainly as he cautiously sat down across from me.
“Julian Ambrose,” he mumbled, and I knew then that my search had been correct.
My neighbor was not only sexy as sin, but a billionaire to boot.
Chapter Four
Mason
It was impossible to concentrate; my mind was too scattered as I tried to focus on my computer. I had heard the neighbor through the intercom, and her invitation was still ringing in my ears.
Why was I even entertaining it?
Probably because Julian had heard it, too, and he’d come to me saying he was in the mood for burgers.
“Julian, we don’t know her,” I’d warned him. “We’re not going over there.”
“But Dad, she said—”
“I heard what she said,” I interrupted, regretting that he had heard it, too. “The answer is still no. I can order in or—”
“No!” he raged. “I’m sick of ordering in! I’m sick of hiding out. Dad, I want to go over there!”
I banished him to his room after that, not wanting to lose my temper at him. I needed to get my bearings. Emotions were running high for both of us, and I knew it was not Julian’s fault. My frustration was just as maddening as his.
But I was the adult—I had to remind myself—and I couldn’t afford to lose control.
The situation was abominable, but I didn’t know how else to handle it. The bodyguards had not worked, and moving from place to place had been futile as well. So far, the only place we’d been able to find peace and safety was Lake Champlain, and that was only because I had cut off the entire world, building an off-the-books location under the company name. The property was owned by one of my umbrella corporations, the deed to the property under an alias.
Though I’d taken precautions to hide behind my businesses, it still felt a little like hiding in plain sight. The estate itself wasn’t inconspicuous, if anyone was ever able to locate it. That’s why no one could know we were here—as soon as anyone got wind of who we were, there’d be no more hiding.
This girl, Gabriella, was threatening everything with her dazzling smile and her sweetness.
Was it a ruse? Was she part of Molly’s plan?
I had no way of knowing, but I did know that there was little Molly wouldn’t do to get at us. She was getting better with each move she made, and soon Julian and I would be out of options.
Anyway, even if Gabriella was the real deal, allowing her in meant answering questions and exposing ourselves.
No, I thought firmly. She can’t have any part of this. I have to nip this in the bud before Julian gets any ideas.
I heard the front door chime, and I bolted out of my chair, my eyes automatically flying toward the security screen, but whoever had entered was not in range.
Someone had just entered the house, but I had no idea who.
“Julian?” I yelled, running toward the door. Before I could reach the handle, the door opened.
My son stood in the threshold with the girl next door.
For a moment, I was unable to speak, my eyes taking in her face as if for the first time.
She was much more beauti
ful than I had expected; the distance between the gate and the front door had failed to show the curve of her Romanesque cheekbones and the creamy smoothness of her pale skin.
My pants suddenly seemed uncomfortably tight, and I shifted to the side, turning away from her brilliant emerald eyes to stare at Julian accusingly.
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, attempting to sound gruff and no-nonsense.
“Hi, Mr. Ambrose, I’m Gabriella Delancey, your neighbor,” she offered, extending her hand. “I think you heard me on the intercom earlier?”
God, she’d called me Mr. Ambrose.
She couldn’t be older than…twenty-three? I suddenly felt like a dirty old man, but that didn’t trouble me as much as I thought it would.
I stared at her hand, wanting to reach out and take it badly, the bulge in my crotch rising at the thought of touching her skin.
Did it feel as soft as it looked?
Her rosebud lips were the same color as rosé, and I wondered if they tasted as sweet.
Fuck.
“Julian, why is she here?” I growled at my son, ignoring her altogether. I could see the look of dismay flash through her expressive eyes, her mouth parting at the slight.
“Dad, she invited us over for burgers. Can we go? Look how nice she is!”
“Mr. Ambrose, it’s no big deal. I bought eight burgers and—”
“Stay away from my son,” I spat, the words causing me physical pain. Putting on this act was not comfortable for me, but I had to keep my family safe. “You’re not welcome on this property.”
I watched as her gorgeous face contorted into a look of hurt. I knew I was being unnecessarily harsh, but I couldn’t risk letting her in.
“I—I’m sorry I bothered you,” she muttered, turning to leave. I thought I saw tears of anger well in her eyes, but she was already out the door before I could say another word.
“Dad!” Julian screamed. “Why did you do that? She’s nice! She’s our neighbor! What is wrong with you? You’re the one always saying we should be nice to our neighbors!”
I didn’t respond until I heard the sensor chime to indicate that she had left.
I darted over to the security camera to ensure she had left the house. I watched as she stepped through the gate and onto her own property, out of view.
The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance Page 32
