silver ribbon of the river as it wound around toward the horizon.
Why couldn’t Joe leave it alone? Why was he so angry about her relationship with Marc? They were only friends. And he’d better accept that fact or she was going to stop going around with him. He was nothing more than a friend—he never would be—and she’d made that clear to him over and over again. Yet here he was, behaving like a jealous lover. Her heart was too shattered ever to be put together again and risked with a man. She’d thought Joe understood that.
She turned, strolling aimlessly between the huge potted plants and stone benches, only vaguely aware that the others who had been on the patio had gone back inside, that she was alone.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Marc asked suddenly, coming up beside her with a smoking cigarette in his hand. He spared the skyline a glance before he turned to study Gaby, much more thoroughly this time. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m older,” she reminded him. She leaned back against the cool stone of the balcony, breathing deliberately to keep him from seeing how his unexpected appearance had disturbed her, set her to trembling. She searched his hard face for traces of the young man she’d once loved. “So are you.”
“I had nine years on you, even then,” he reminded her. He took a draw from the cigarette and dropped it to the floor to grind it under his heel. “I was twenty-six to your seventeen. Why are you dating my brother?” he threw at her without warning.
Just like old times, she thought. Marc always had been blunt. “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked.
“You know damned well why not.”
“You surely don’t imagine I’m doing it for revenge?” she asked, laughing nervously.
“What other reason could you have?” he replied. “We both know Joe’s not your style. He never would be. He’s a marshmallow.”
“And you’re a knife,” she shot back, staring at him blatantly. “You even cut like one. I like your brother. He’s real. You never were. I only imagined you.”
“That was nine years ago,” he reminded her. “And it’s over. It was over before it ever began.”
“Do forgive me for trying to compromise you, Marc.” She laughed lightly, her green eyes shooting sparks at him as she folded her arms over her breasts. “I was very naive, remember.”
His face went harder. “Yeah.”
She tilted her head back so that her soft hair fell like a waterfall down her back. “I’m not green anymore, though,” she said softly. “So you don’t have to worry about your little brother. I’ll take good care of him.”
He hadn’t expected the frontal attack, and she caught the tiniest flicker of his eyelids. He reached for another cigarette. “There are plenty of other men in New York,” he said shortly.
“I like Joe,” she responded, hoping that her words would hurt Marc. She turned toward the apartment, but he caught her arm, holding her just in front of him. His palm against her skin was torment, bringing back memories of gentler touching, of silvery pleasure. His dark eyes stared angrily down into her shimmering green ones, and she had images of a dam held in tight control. She remembered all too well what he was like when that dam broke, how violent his passions were.
“Leave Joe alone, honey,” he said softly, too softly. “He’s not for you.”
“What will you do if I don’t, Marc?” she asked defiantly. “Send over some nocturnal visitors?”
“Nothing quite so permanent. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt. Not that way.” He reached up and caught her long hair, propelling her close against his massive body. He’d always been big, but now he felt like a mountain, and her body throbbed in instant response, a response she couldn’t prevent.
“Don’t,” she protested.
“Aren’t you curious?” he whispered, searching her face. “I am. I want to see if you’ve changed flavors, if you’ve aged, like good wine.”
His wide, sexy mouth was poised just above hers, and she was blind and deaf and dumb to the whole world outside. She could breathe him, taste him, and the feel of his huge body was like a narcotic. Old memories came unbidden, washing over her like fire, making her ache with remembered passion.
“Soft,” he breathed as his hands smoothed down her arms, coaxing her against his body. “You smell of roses in the darkness, just as you used to when you were a silky little virgin and I wanted to take you—”
“Well, don’t expect me to fall at your feet these days, Mr. Stephano,” she almost spat at him, using every ounce of her willpower to keep from throwing herself at him. He was the enemy. She had to remember that. She even managed a tight little smile as his mouth hovered over hers, tempting it.
“Can you keep it up?” he mocked, rubbing his lips delicately against hers in a shiver of sensuous pressure. “Can you hold out against it? I remember that most of all, that your body belonged to me from the first moment I touched it. Do you remember when that happened, Gaby? In the park, under the old oak?” he whispered against her open lips.
“A hundred years ago,” she retorted, jerking against his hold.
“At least.” He was playing, toying with her; that cruel smile told her so. But her body began to ache at the sweet contact with his huge, hard-muscled torso, as it hadn’t in many long years. If he kissed her now, she knew she’d melt onto the floor. She had to prevent him from doing that. She had to hold on to her sanity despite the fact that her knees were rubbery and her breath wouldn’t come.
He trailed a long, lean finger down her throat. “If you don’t leave Joe alone,” he whispered huskily, “I’ll come after you, Gaby. And he won’t want what I leave behind.”
“You don’t even know what you left behind nine years ago, do you, Marc?” she taunted, feeling her anger come to her rescue. Her green eyes flashed as she arched her body away from contact with his and went rigid in his arms. “You threw me out like a used rag!”
His face went stone-cold at that accusation. He stared down into her eyes quietly, searchingly. His hands on her bare arms tightened, and she thought vaguely that she might have bruises if he didn’t stop...
“And for money,” she continued, her eyes burning with unshed tears, the years of impotent rage all bursting behind a swell of emotion. “For five thousand dollars. That’s all it took to buy you off!” His face had gone white, but she hardly registered it; she saw him only through a blur of fevered anger. “I loved you! I would have died for you! And you sold me out for money! You used me!”
“Gaby,” he said hesitantly, as he slowly released her. “Gaby, you don’t understand. You don’t know how it was.”
“I know,” she scoffed, her voice breaking, and even then she smiled as she rubbed viciously at an escaped tear. “I know all too well. You were ambitious. You wanted to get up in the world. And you did. Don’t you want to thank me for all this, Marc?” she asked, sweeping her arms around toward the opulent apartment. “I was the price you paid for it!”
“Your own parents sold you out, not me!” he returned hotly, dark eyes flashing, his face like stone.
Her
