Captured by the Billionaire / Sold Into Marriage. Maureen Child

walked away from him without a backward glance. And that memory was enough to steel him against the sheen of tears glittering in her eyes.

      He only hoped it would be enough to help him hold out against the low, distinct throb of need pulsing inside him. “Look, as I see it, you have two choices,” he said quietly. “You can spend your time on the island here, in this cell…”

      She swung her gaze in a wide arc, taking in her surroundings in a heartbeat. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It didn’t matter that the tiny jailhouse was a pleasant enough place. There were bars on the doors and windows and being locked away wasn’t a good thing, no matter how nice the accommodation.

      Which is how he knew she’d choose door number two when presented with it.

      “Or,” he said, meeting her gaze when she shifted it back to his, “you can come back to the hotel with me.”

      “With you.”

      “As the owner of the island, I can release you into my custody.”

      “Custody.”

      He grinned. “There really is an echo in here, isn’t there?”

      “Funny.” Debbie watched him warily. “And if I’m in your custody, what exactly does that mean?”

      “It means,” he said, his voice low and dark, “you would be staying in my suite. Where I can keep an eye on you, until the matter is resolved.”

      “Why can’t I have my old guest room back?”

      Because he wanted her close, damn it.

      “A wanted criminal?” he countered, lifting one dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

      “We both know I’m not guilty of anything.”

      “All I know is, you’re in jail and I’m in charge,” he said. “Up to you, Deb. Spend a few nights in a cell or come with me now.”

      She looked from him to the cot behind her and back again. She studied his face and said, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

      “Shouldn’t I be?” he countered, giving her a lazy smile that didn’t even try to disguise his amusement.

      Debbie stared at him for another long minute. She could hardly believe any of this was happening. Gabriel Vaughn was the owner of Fantasies? The owner of his own, private island?

      Ten years ago he’d had big plans and little else. Debbie had loved him madly back then, despite her own fears of a future that had looked shaky at best. Now, he was clearly more successful than even he had dreamed.

      And she was literally at the mercy of a man who had every right to still be furious and bitter at the way she’d ended things between them.

      This so didn’t look good.

      Her mind racing, Debbie tried to slow her thoughts down and slide them into some kind of order. By all rights, she should be on a plane home, having a tropical drink right now, served by a smiling flight attendant. Instead she was standing in a cell, facing down the man she’d once thought she would love forever.

      But the truth was, she thought as she looked at him on the other side of the bars, she couldn’t see anything of the Gabe she had known in the man watching her now. This man was cold. Even his smile was like ice.

      She shivered, moved away from the cell door until the backs of her knees hit the quilt-covered cot behind her. Then she simply dropped to the narrow mattress and stared up at him. “I think I’ll stay here,” she said quietly.

      Something in his green eyes flickered and she was pretty sure it was surprise. “You’d prefer a jail cell to the hotel?”

      No, she thought wildly, somehow terrified of spending the night behind bars. “Yes.”

      “Fine,” he said shortly, already turning for the door that led into the outer office. “If you change your mind, have one of the men call the resort.”

      “I won’t change my mind, Gabe,” she called as he opened the door and stepped through.

      He stopped, turned his head to look at her and said thoughtfully, “You said that once before. A long time ago. But you changed your mind anyway. I think you will this time, too.”

      Then he left, closing the door behind him.

      And Debbie was alone.

      In the middle of the night, Debbie was wishing she were alone.

      She sat up straight on her narrow cot and threw a furious look at the man in the adjoining cell to hers. The guards had brought him in an hour ago and he hadn’t been quiet for a moment since.

      “We will, we will, rock you!” The best that could be said about his singing voice was that it was loud. The worst was, he kept running through every eighties song his blurred mind could recall. And the words he didn’t remember, he made up.

      Debbie’s head was pounding and her eyes felt gritty. She was so tired she could hardly think and knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all. Not with the drunken lounge singer keeping her awake.

      “Hey, honey,” the man crooned suddenly as he leaned on the bars separating their cells. “Got any requests?”

      “Yes,” she snapped. “How about you shut up now?”

      He grinned sloppily. “Don’t know that one. How ’bout ‘you’re just too good to be true…’?”

      “Oh, God.” Debbie cupped her hands over her face and sighed heavily while she was serenaded. She couldn’t take this. Even facing down a cold-eyed Gabe would be better than being stuck in this cell with a drunk wannabe crooner.

      Besides, there was no telling who the guards might bring in next. And with both cells occupied, the guards would start doubling up. Who knew who might be Debbie’s roommate by morning?

      Mind made up, she jumped off the cot, crossed to the cell door and shouted, “Guard! Guard!”

      She’d never thought she’d be in this position. It was like she was living an old movie. All she needed was a tin cup to rattle across the bars. She was humiliated and scared and tired, and all she wanted to do was to go home. But since she couldn’t at the moment, the hotel would be way preferable to life in a cage. Damn Gabe for being right.

      When the security guard opened the door and looked in at her, she could have wept with gratitude. “Would you call Gabe for me? I mean, Mr. Vaughn?”

      “What do you wish to tell him?” the man asked, pitching his voice to be heard over the strains of “Every Breath You Take,” now being slaughtered by Debbie’s cell mate.

      She shot the drunk another furious glare, then turned back to the guard. “Tell him…tell him I changed my mind.”

      * * *

      Debbie stepped into Gabe’s suite at the hotel and could hardly notice any of the plush surroundings, since her gaze was locked on him. He wore nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms that dipped low over his hips.

      His broad, bare chest was tanned and sculpted as if out of bronze. His long, dark-blond hair hung loose and was tousled enough to tell her he’d gotten out of bed to answer her cry for help. The lights in the room were dim and the sheer drapes were pulled open, allowing the moon and starlight to drift inside on a wash of silver.

      “Thanks for bringing her up, Emil,” Gabe said, and shook the guard’s hand before seeing him out and closing the door behind him.

      Debbie stood in the middle of the living area and dared not take her eyes off of Gabe for an instant. When he met hers, she read annoyance and pleasure in those dark green depths and found herself shifting uncomfortably beneath his steady regard.

      “Fine,” she said on a sigh. “You were right. I changed my mind.”

      He