Prologue
Gabe
Gabriel Dare eyed the beautiful woman with the bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes, hoping his bland expression concealed the intense emotions she roused inside him. Protective instincts the likes of which he’d never experienced before. The desire to sweep her into his arms, breathe in her unique scent no designer could have created, and steal her away from this god-awful staid country club was strong.
He had an endless supply of beautiful women all eager to share his bed, including Naomi, his latest affair, and yet they did nothing for him except accompany him on endless nights like this one. And take the edge off his need. True satisfaction hadn’t existed for him in far too long.
He was bored. Unless he was watching her. Then the perfection and elegance of the Hamptons club vanished, and she was all he saw.
Blonde hair fell down her back in less-than-perfect waves, defying the stick-straight look most women preferred. Her lush, sexy body, so unlike the females he normally bedded, had his hands itching to learn those curves and show her what true pleasure really was. She was unattainable, living with one of Wall Street’s stars, but she could do so much better.
Oddly, it wasn’t her lack of availability that appealed. She was bright, witty, and she could hold her own with just about anyone, making whoever she spoke to feel important. He admired that trait. They hadn’t spent more than a few minutes here and there in each other’s company, but she’d taken his breath away from the first look.
Gabe would do just about anything to attain something he wanted, but he drew the line at poaching on another man’s territory. Still, he had to admit she tested even his willpower, and he’d had practice at being alone. He’d married young and miscalculated badly. Afterwards, he’d been certain that after Krissie’s death, for which he felt responsible, the smart thing would be to keep a safe emotional distance from women.
One look at Isabelle Masters and he’d changed his mind. There was something about her that filled the emptiness inside him. To the point where just watching her was enough to calm his usually restless soul. Unfortunately, they didn’t run into each other nearly often enough.
Gabe ran a hand through his hair, groaning as he caught sight of Naomi making her way toward him, a cocktail plate with one celery stick and a carrot in her hand. His gaze darted to Isabelle as she crossed the room in the opposite direction, careful to avoid him as long as the man she lived with was around.
She was taken, and all he could do was admire. Look and not touch. But if she ever became available, all bets were off.
Chapter One
Isabelle
He begged me not to walk out the door. I did it anyway. The scariest part? How much I wanted to go. I’d spent years of my life fully invested in a relationship I’d thought meant everything to me. How could all the emotion disappear?
The answer came to me as I stood in the dark driveway by my car, the only light coming from the headlights of the vehicle I’d turned on with the push of a remote. The feelings had drained away, diminishing slowly from something I’d hoped would be full and wonderful at the age of twenty-two to something painfully empty by the time I’d reached twenty-five. I wasn’t old, but at this moment, I felt ancient and weary down to my bones.
I glanced up just as the first drop of rain touched my face. Normally I’d pull up a hood and protect my out-of-control curly hair from frizz, worried about how I’d look to Lance and the carefully chosen people with whom he surrounded himself. He called them friends, but none knew the meaning of the word. Instead, I embraced the wildness of the storm that suddenly threatened to release from the heavens. Each warm droplet hit and spread across my cheeks, cleansing my skin and my soul. The wind took flight, lifting my hair, blowing strands onto my face and setting the rest of me free.
“Isabelle!” Lance yelled down from the window he’d opened on the second floor of his Hamptons summer home. It had been too long since I’d considered any part of it mine. If I ever had.
I unwillingly looked up.
“You’ve had your tantrum. Now come back inside, and we’ll talk like civilized people. You don’t want to cause a scene in front of the neighbors.”
Heaven forbid, I thought, sparing a last glance at the place I’d lived for too long. The house was Lance Daltry’s showplace, just as I had been nothing more than an accessory. I may have organized his personal life and thrown obligatory dinner parties, but I’d contributed nothing of substance. He’d never allowed me to spend any of the money I’d earned before I’d quit my interior design job. Unnecessary, he’d said. If I loved him, I’d stay home and take care of the house. More like he’d wanted control, and I’d given it to him.
Luckily for me, I’d saved a good amount from those early days. Not so luckily, I’d let Lance invest my money and maintain control of those accounts. And what were the chances that money would be available for my withdrawal on Monday morning? I closed my eyes at the thought.
Although I’d been in Manhattan for a couple of years by the time I’d met Lance, I was still the naïve girl who’d taken a bus from a small town near Niagara Falls and traveled to the big city alone. Too bad I hadn’t had the street smarts to peg Lance for the phony he’d turned out to be.
“Isabelle!” He yelled down to me again, not bothering to come out in the rain to talk to me, let alone apologize like a man. Not when the rain would ruin his thousand-dollar suit and hundred-dollar haircut.
Not talking, I thought silently, and merely shook my head.
Talk was what had gotten me to remain in a relationship I knew I didn’t want with a man I couldn’t trust; it was what had convinced me that Lance, a Wall Street trader, was my soul mate when, in the deepest part of my heart, I knew there was no such thing. And most humiliating, talk was what had led me to believe his lies, despite knowing I wasn’t truly satisfied with him or in his gilded cage.
I didn’t need therapy to tell me why I’d been so susceptible to Lance’s charm and desire to own me. The childhood I didn’t like to think about held the answers. But having escaped him now, one thing was certain. I wasn’t going back.
“Would you quit being a child and get back here!” Lance tried once more, patronizing me even though he was the one in the wrong. Another favorite ploy of his.
Shaking, I climbed into my beloved car, slamming the door and escaping Lance’s tirade. I started the engine and paused, breathing in deep, the events of the last few minutes rushing through my brain like a bad film.