wonderful against her skin, light and soft. Luxurious and expensive.
She had just zipped it up when there was a knock at the door.
"Sarah?"
"Yes."
"Would you care to come downstairs and have a glass of wine?"
"Yes, thank you."
She opened the door to find him standing in the hall, dressed in the same form-fitting jeans and T-shirt as before. She glanced at his bare feet. There was something incredibly intimate about the fact that neither of them was wearing shoes. The thought brought a quick flush to her face.
An emotion she couldn't put a name to flickered in Gabriel's dark gray eyes before he turned away. Thick white carpet muffled her footsteps as she followed him down the stairs, through another hall, and into a large, high-ceilinged room.
She glanced around the room while he poured two glasses of wine. An enormous marble fireplace took up one entire wall. Flames danced and crackled in the hearth. A huge crystal chandelier reminiscent of one she'd seen in a play hung from the ceiling. The carpet beneath her feet was the same white plush that covered the hallways. White carpeting, she thought, and wondered absently how he kept it clean. Dark green drapes covered the windows.
There was no furniture in the room save for an antique oak side table, one overstuffed easy chair covered in a dark green print, and a big-screen TV.
A graceful archway opened onto an entry hall inlaid with black marble.
Gabriel studied her face as he handed her a glass filled with dark red wine. He sensed her nervousness at being alone with him in the house, and wondered what he could say to put her at ease.
Sarah murmured her thanks as she accepted the wine. She glanced around the room again, wondering why there were no pictures on the walls, no mirrors, no clocks. There was, in fact, nothing of a personal nature in the room. "Have you... have you lived here long?"
"A few months."
"It's a lovely house."
Gabriel shrugged. He had bought the mansion shortly after his arrival in Los Angeles. He had been unimpressed when the real estate agent told him it had once belonged to a very famous but reclusive movie star. He had bought the house on a whim simply because the design and the gardens had reminded him of a villa he had once owned in Italy.
"Are you married?" Sarah asked.
"No."
She didn't miss the deep sadness, the loneliness, that clung to that single word.
"Divorced?"
"No."
"Living with someone?"
He frowned. "No, why do you ask?"
"The bedroom... it seems... I mean... never mind, it's none of my business."
His gaze caught and held hers. "I decorated it for you."
Sarah took a step backward, frightened by the fervor in his eyes, the intensity of his voice. "For me? How? Why?"
"I knew..." He paused a moment. "That is, I hoped, that you would come here one day."
"But we've only known each other a few weeks."
He shrugged. "With enough money, you can accomplish a great deal in a short time. You'll find clothes in the armoire."
Sarah took another step backward, wondering why she felt as though she had been thrust into a strange and alien world. She remembered bits and pieces of an old French movie she'd seen in which a man had sold his daughter to a beast. The girl had lived in luxury, but she had been a prisoner just the same.
She shook the fanciful notion from her mind. Gabriel didn't look like a beast, and she was free to leave whenever she wished. Wasn't she?
She glanced at the oversized door visible at the end of the entry hall. It was at least eight feet high and made of solid oak. To keep the world out, she wondered, or to keep her in? She told herself she was being foolish, that she was letting her imagination run wild, but she couldn't shake the feeling that if she didn't get away now, she never would, that she would be imprisoned, like Belle in Beauty and the Beast except, in this case, the beast was beautiful.
"I want to go home."
He hesitated a moment, as if he meant to argue with her, and then he nodded. "I'll take you."
"No."
"Sarah..."
He took a step toward her, and she whirled around, the glass in her hand forgotten as she darted toward the front door. Wine sloshed over the rim of the delicate crystal goblet, splashing over the white carpet to leave a blood-red stain.
Frantic, she ran down the long marble entryway to the front door. She grabbed the ornate brass