Sleeping Beauty's Billionaire. Caroline Cross

He chugged steadily past clumps of chatting guests and skillfully avoided knots of family members, not stopping until they finally arrived at the buffet, a vast spread laid out over a river of tabletops covered with crisp white linen.

      The boy’s gaze darted from the steaming casseroles to the heaps of Italian meat sliced paper thin, from stacks of golden calzones to platters of strawberries dipped in pale chocolate. He exhaled with gusty appreciation. “Wow.”

      Wow was right. In her usual over-the-top fashion, Colleen’s mother, Moira, had made certain there was enough food on hand to feed all of Boston. Yet Colleen, who’d typically forgotten to eat that day and had been ravenous only a few minutes earlier, realized she no longer had an appetite.

      The reason was obvious, and she felt a prick of annoyance at herself. Not that she intended to let on. Although Matthew probably wouldn’t care, she refused to allow Gavin’s unexpected presence to affect her behavior. After all, the time they’d been together had happened many years ago; neither of them was the person they’d been.

      She knew she wasn’t. After a difficult, painful struggle she’d learned to accept herself. She’d carved out a life rich with friends and a job where she felt she made a difference. And though there were times she was lonely and she still had her share of doubts and fears, frustrations and longings—life after all, was a constant and ever-changing challenge—in the ways that mattered most she was at peace for the first time ever.

      So quit acting like a drama queen and eat, her practical side chided. Squaring her shoulders, she handed Matthew a gold-banded china plate, then took one for herself. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” she said as she began serving them.

      “Oh, yeah.”

      Thirty-five minutes and one return to the buffet line later, Matthew leaned back and exhaled in satisfaction. “That was really, really scrumpdillyitious,” he announced.

      Her lips quirked. “Yes, it was.” Which was perfectly true as applied to the pathetically small amount she’d managed to get down. She set down her fork, grateful she could finally quit rearranging what was left on her plate.

      Matt started to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, then apparently thought better of it as she raised an eyebrow at him. Sighing, he took a cursory swipe of his face with his napkin, tossed the linen square on the table and idly began to swing one leg.

      He was silent for what was for him an uncharacteristically long moment. “Colleen?”

      “Hmm?”

      “Do you feel okay?”

      She glanced over at him in surprise. “Sure.”

      “You’re not mad at me or something?”

      “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

      He stared with sudden fascination at a spot of Alfredo sauce he’d dripped on the tablecloth and gave a slight, one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno. It’s just…you’re sort of quiet. For you. And you didn’t eat very much, either. And earlier, when we were coming to get our food and then you stopped, you got a real funny look on your face. Kind of like Jordan Crenshaw did when I dared him to eat a dead frog.”

      “Gosh.” Ignoring a concern that her earlier turmoil had been so apparent, she deliberately made her voice light. “And here I thought I was looking pretty good today.”

      Matt’s head jerked up. “Oh, yeah! You do! For a girl. That is…” Flustered, he broke off. Heat stained his cheeks, but at least he was looking at her now, even if his expression was far too earnest. “It’s just…I mean…it’s just that usually you don’t act like other grownups.”

      She’d certainly heard that before. Only normally it was from people her own age. “Ah.” What the heck. She might as well take the plunge. “In what way?”

      “Well…” He cocked his head, considering. “You really listen to me when we talk. And you never make me feel like you’d rather be somewhere else, with somebody else.”

      She blinked, gratified.

      “And you don’t act like you’re smarter than me just because you’re old.”

      That certainly put things in perspective; she swallowed a sudden bubble of laughter and did her best to look solemn. “Gee, maybe you’d better find me a cane. I wouldn’t want to topple over when I stand up and fall in the punch bowl and embarrass us both.”

      For half a second the boy looked horrified. And then he realized she was kidding, and his eyes took on an impish gleam. “Naw. You’re not that old.” He did his best to match her deadpan delivery. “But if you were gonna fall down, we’re a lot closer to the wedding cake. Now, that’d be really cool.”

      “Matthew!” Her protest was ruined by her sputter of laughter. “No wonder your mom says you’re a menace.”

      He looked inordinately pleased. “Really? She said that?”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      Before she could add that her cousin Janice had then said how crazy she was about the little rascal, his gaze settled on something behind her and he straightened like a bird dog who’d spotted a covey of quail. “Hey, it’s Jeremy and Sean!” Like Matt, the two boys were distant cousins from Colleen’s mother’s side of the family and had recently become objects of Matt’s veneration by virtue of having birthdays and officially becoming teenagers. “Can I go say hi?”

      “Of course.”

      She didn’t have to tell him twice. He shot to his feet and disappeared almost before she gave her consent.

      Fondly Colleen watched him go, relieved when the older boys welcomed him warmly. Looking away as a waiter approached, she declined an offer of champagne, taking a sip of her water, instead, as the young man quickly cleared away her and Matthew’s plates.

      The reception really had turned out to be a lovely affair, she reflected. A few tables away her brother Joseph was involved in an intense conversation with Uncle Paul, while her younger sisters, Rita, Gina and Maria, stood clustered together near the buffet, hands gesturing and faces alight as they chatted with one another.

      Out on the dance floor, Nick glided into view, his arms securely cradling his bride, Gail. Hands clasped, heads together, the two were engrossed in each other. Colleen felt a wash of pleasure at their obvious happiness. Before meeting Gail, Nick hadn’t had the easiest time when it came to love and romance.

      A tendency that seemed to run in the family, she mused as she found herself searching the crowd for Gavin’s black hair and broad shoulders. Assuring herself the sudden hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach was relief rather than disappointment when he was nowhere to be seen, she brushed a crumb off the table and told herself firmly she’d played hooky long enough.

      At the very least, she should go check on “the aunts”—the contingent of widowed, black-clad, elderly ladies all gathered together at one big table like a flock of crows. Or, if she really wanted to feel virtuous, she could always seek out her mother….

      Quit that, Colleen. Swallowing a sigh—was she ever going to outgrow the irreverent streak that too often got her in trouble?—she pushed back her chair, stood, squared her shoulders and turned.

      And found herself gazing straight into the unsmiling face of Gavin O’Sullivan.

      It wasn’t fair. Twelve years, and she looked exactly the same, Gavin thought grimly. Dainty. Delicate. A doe-eyed waif with flawless skin and the hint of a dimple in one soft cheek.

      The only thing different was her hair. Gone was the ebony sheaf that had once fallen in a silken tumble to her waist. In its place was a cropped, tousled cap that somehow made her neck seem more fragile, her straight little nose finer, her densely lashed blue eyes even bigger.

      Not that he gave a rip. His sole reason for seeking her out was to get this encounter over with. He’d come to celebrate Nick’s wedding, and he