Gabrielle had been gone nearly an hour when he heard the downstairs door open, then the heavy tread of slow, tired footsteps. He held his breath as the steps approached the third floor, then went on. He sighed. Apparently there would be no confrontation again tonight, no resolution of the earlier argument. Maybe it was for the best. Perhaps in the morning, with clearer heads, they could get at the real problems between them. He felt slightly guilty over his relief at the reprieve.
Working with renewed concentration on the new kitchen cabinets, he was startled when he turned and found Gabrielle standing in the doorway. She’d changed out of her tailored-for-success business suit into jeans and a surprisingly faded sweatshirt that dipped unevenly at the neckline and bagged everywhere else. She’d never looked sexier or more approachable. If he kept looking at her, it would shatter his control. He turned back to the cabinet, fitting a corner together with careful precision, then tapping a nail into place.
“What happened here tonight?” she said softly. The uncertainty in her voice was enough to tie his gut into knots all over again. He couldn’t look at her. If he did, if he saw the slightest hint of vulnerability in her eyes, he would take her in his arms and they would both be lost.
“We both found out we’d been living in a dreamworld. Reality set it.” He kept his voice deliberately cool, determinedly nonchalant.
“I don’t think so.” The crisp note of conviction surprised him.
“So what do you think happened?”
“I think we were getting too close. I think you were feeling things you didn’t want to feel and you set out to destroy those feelings.”
His head snapped around at that. He hadn’t credited her with mind-reading and wasn’t about to admit to her skill. “Where the hell would you get an idea like that?”
She was not the least bit intimidated by his gruff tone. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You admitted that you’d known all along that I had doubts about getting involved with you, so all that garbage about my being a snob was hardly news. You used it, though. You took something we hadn’t even put to the test…”
“Your attitude…”
“Was based on a misperception.”
“Does that make it any less unconscionable?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re every bit as hung up on the class distinction as you accuse me of being. Is being a reverse snob one bit better than being a snob? I resent that label, anyway. It’s not the money itself or the lack of it that creates incompatibility. Even two rich people often develop even more dramatically different life-styles, make far different choices because of the restrictions or size of their bank account.”
“You went to Harvard. I went to the school of hard knocks. Is that what you mean?”
She grinned. “In a way.”
“That’s a wide chasm to bridge.”
“Maybe.”
“I tried it once before and it didn’t work,” he admitted, surprising himself with his candor. He’d never told anyone about Christine. His parents had guessed, of course. They had even tried to warn him the relationship was a mistake. He’d ignored the warnings.
“Why didn’t it work?” Gabrielle asked.
“She was rich. I was poor.”
“Was it really that simple?”
He thought about Christine, really thought about her for the first time in years. Nothing about her had been simple.
“She liked to be where the action was. If her friends were skiing in Switzerland, that’s where she wanted to be. If they were on a cruise in the Mediterranean, she couldn’t wait to join them. She went to every charity ball in the city, every club opening, every major art exhibit. It all cost money and I didn’t have it. The few times I went with her it was a disaster. She and her crowd talked about places and people I’d never even heard of. At first I was a curiosity. But it didn’t take long for her to figure out that the novelty had worn off and I didn’t fit in.”
“So she dumped you?”
“Something like that,” he said. It was a calm, unemotional description of something that had once been devastating. Even now he couldn’t recall it without a surge of anger and humiliation.
“Were you really that happy with someone so different?” He tried remembering exactly how it had been ten years ago on the day when he’d had to admit it was over. He and Christine had spent the weekend sailing with her friends in Newport. Lulled by the sun and the ever-present pitcher of vodka and tonic, he’d felt oddly detached. He’d listened to the gossip that substituted for meaningful conversation. He’d watched Christine spend an entire day worrying about her tan line. And he had been incredibly bored. Still, that night he had been caught up in years of powerful feelings again. He had proposed. What a mistake it would have been if she’d said yes.
Suddenly he grinned at Gabrielle. “That’s amazing. I just realized that I was bored to tears. For ten years I’ve been hating myself for not being able to fit in, only to discover I’d hate being like that crowd.”
“Does that mean we can put my family background aside from now on?” Before he could answer, her gaze clashed with his. He read the challenge that was in her eyes long before it crossed her lips. “Do you want me, Paul?”
He’d thought he’d prepared himself for anything, but he was stunned by the direct question. His body responded before he could begin to find the right words for an answer.
“Yes,” he said finally.
“And I want you.”
“Which doesn’t resolve the real
