Gabe sipped his beer, his gaze following the Chevy until it turned left at the end of the road and disappeared from view. That woman might have been uptight, like a lot of English women were in his opinion, but there was something more to her, something inherently sad in her eyes. He recognized the flat, empty stare because he saw it in his own gaze every morning. She’d suffered, and by the looks of things, she still was. The scars on her wrists hadn’t passed him by, either.

“Hey, Sam.” He invited over the barman. Not much happened around here without Sam knowing about it.

“Another?”

“Yeah, and some information.”

Sam grinned. “Intriguing, isn’t she?”

“You could say that. What do you know about her?”

“Not much. She’s been coming here every Tuesday for about six months, but she’s always alone. She buys the same drink, orders the same meal—apart from today, thanks to you scaring her off—and writes in her journal. She’s polite but standoffish. You know, the sort that screams ‘stay away,’ and you can’t help but draw closer.”

“What’s her name?”

“Olivia Hayes.”

Gabe stared off into the distance as Sam poured a fresh beer. What’s your story, Olivia Hayes?

He was jolted from his daydreaming when Sam put the fresh glass in front of him. “I worry about her.”

Gabe frowned. “Why?”

“Because if the poor girl has caught your attention, she doesn’t stand a chance.” Sam fluttered his fingers. “Like a moth to a flame, she’s gonna get burned.”

Gabe flipped Sam the bird, and the bartender barked with laughter as he walked away to serve a waiting customer.

Gabe’s thoughts turned once more to Olivia. He usually found vulnerable, damaged women a turnoff, preferring someone he could spar with rather than having to watch every word that came out of his mouth. But she wore her sadness like a cloak, and Gabe had an urge to free her from the weight of it. And who knew? That might mean he could throw off his own demons.

He took his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and flicked through the contacts list until he found his publicist’s number. There couldn’t be too many English women called Olivia Hayes living close to Huntington Beach.

“Alex,” he said as soon as his call was answered. “I need a favor.”

Alex groaned. “What story do I need to quash this time?”

“I see my reputation precedes me. No story, at least not yet. I need you to find someone for me.”

“Shall I instruct your lawyer to prepare a defense against a restraining order at the same time?”

Gabe chuckled. “Since when has my attention ever been unrequited? Give me some credit.”

“Okay, what info do you have?”

“Her name’s Olivia Hayes. She’s mid to late twenties. English. I saw her in the Huntington Beach area so that might be where she’s living. I need an address.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. Give me twenty-four hours.”

“You’ve got twelve.”

Alex sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll call you later.”

Gabe hung up and finished his beer. He tossed some money on the bar and said goodbye to Sam. Pulling his baseball cap down low and hiding his eyes behind a pair of aviators, he set off for home, his mind swirling with images of Olivia Hayes.

* * *

After a restless night’s sleep, caused by intrusive images of the handsome stranger who’d ticked her off so much the previous day, Livvy decided to go for a run. She needed to do something to calm the agitated feeling making her stomach churn and her skin prickle. She dressed in athletic gear and pulled on a pair of well-worn sneakers. As she passed the fridge, she took out a cold bottle of water.

After locking the apartment door behind her, she jogged down the stairs and onto the street. The temperature was already well into the eighties. Despite that, she set off at a fast pace, desperate to quiet the unwelcome voices in her head.

Ninety minutes later, she returned to her apartment block, sweaty and out of breath. But at least the pit of anxiety gnawing at her insides had receded, and her body and mind were exhausted too. Maybe now she would be able to relax.

She stepped out of the elevator and trudged along the corridor towards her apartment. As she turned the corner, her eyes widened in astonishment. She paused, wondering if she should turn around and run away before he spotted her. Too late. His eyes lifted and met hers, and he flashed her a brilliant smile.

Goddammit. Gabe Mitchell.

Livvy stood absolutely still, holding her breath, unable to move. What the hell was he doing there? And more importantly, how the hell did he know where she lived?

Gabe’s tall, muscular frame was casually leaning against her door, his feet crossed at the ankles. He seemed unable to contain his amusement, his lips twitching upward as he gave her the once-over.

Livvy resisted the urge to tidy her hair or swipe at the rivers of sweat running down her face. She cleared her throat and tried to find her voice. “How…”

He pushed himself away from the door. “It’s not as hard as you think, Olivia,” he said, edging closer.

Shit. He knew her name and where she lived? What else did he know? Was he some kind of stalker? As he reached her, he held out his right hand, palm up. Livvy frowned, still frozen to the spot, and looked at him questioningly.

“Give me your key,” he said. “You look like you’re going to drop at any minute. You should be careful running in this heat.”

"I’m not giving you the key to my apartment. You could be a murderer, a rapist, anything.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the action causing her eyes to slip to the long column of his tanned throat. She swallowed, and her tongue briefly swept over her lips.

“You’re perfectly safe, I promise you.”

Livvy averted her gaze from the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke—because she didn’t like the thoughts that popped into her head—and planted her hands on her hips. “That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

He laughed again. “I’m one of the good guys. Promise. And considering I was asking Sam about you yesterday, I’d guess that if any harm were to come to you, I’d be suspect number one.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why were you asking Sam about me?”

He reached out his hand once more. “Come on. Give me your key. We need to get you a drink before you pass out.”

With a heavy sigh, and without understanding the reason for her capitulation, Livvy took the key out of her pocket and dropped it into his outstretched palm.

He turned around, walked back to her apartment, and opened the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he cocked his head to the right. “Coming?” he asked, walking inside.

Livvy’s hands formed into fists, and her chest burned. She’d thought him arrogant the previous day. This morning, his arrogance was on bloody steroids.

When she stepped into her apartment, he’d already opened the fridge, removed a carton of orange juice, and was pouring some into a glass that had been draining on the side of the sink. He extended the glass of juice towards her.

Unbelievably, she found herself taking it from him. “Thanks.” She took a swig. “I need to shower.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She stalked to the door and opened it, inclining her head. “Out.”

He smirked, and for an awful moment, she thought he wasn’t going to leave. She began running scenarios in her head for how to deal with the situation, when he shrugged.

“Okay. I’ll wait outside.” He clipped her under the chin as he passed then pulled the door closed behind him.

For a few moments, Livvy stared at the door. Who was this guy? His overfamiliarity towards her was more than a little unnerving. Maybe that was why she felt so wrong footed. Or perhaps it was his composure and poise that was throwing her off.

She jumped into the shower and let the cool water wash over her. She stood there for a minute or so, trying to put her scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. Less than twenty-four hours ago, they’d met at Sam’s, and she was certain she hadn’t told him her name. Or had she? God, it was so hard to remember. Regardless, her name was one thing; her address was quite another. Had he followed her home after she left the bar? No, he couldn’t have. Yet there he was. What could he possibly want?

She dried herself off and quickly dressed. Maybe he hadn’t stuck around. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and peered through the crack. Damn, he was still there, lounging against the wall, tapping on his cell phone. As if sensing her scrutiny, he lifted his head and met her eyes, an amused expression curving his lips. He gestured towards the door with his chin, his instruction clear.

Livvy ground her teeth and opened it fully. “Signing in to stalkersRus.com?” she asked.

His answering smile could have turned the hardest of hearts to mush. “No. They cancelled my account for using it too much. Feeling better?”

She held her breath as a warm feeling swarmed through her veins, and her fingertips tingled with an urge to touch, to explore. Grimacing as guilt slammed into her, she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her reaction to Gabe was purely physical, nothing more. No need to get all of a dither. He was simply a good-looking guy. And that smile…

“Yes, thanks.”

“Good.” He sidled past her before she could stop him. “Would you like another glass of juice or water?”

Was this her apartment or his?

“No, I’m fine. What are you doing here, Mr…”

He cocked an eyebrow. He knew that she was faking her lack of memory. “I’m here to see you, Olivia.”

She refrained from telling him she preferred Livvy to the much stuffier Olivia. He didn’t need any more encouragement. “How do you know who I am and where I live?”

He shrugged. “As I said before, it wasn’t very hard to find out.” He gestured for her to sit, which totally pissed her off. Even so, she obeyed, glowering at him as he plunked himself down beside her.

“You rushed off so quickly yesterday, just as we were starting to get to know each other. You left me no choice.” His jade-green eyes twinkled. “Despite your absolute certainty we would never see each other again, here we are.”

His light repartee gave her goose bumps. He was teasing her, but she wasn’t in the mood to banter. Still struggling to come to terms with her reaction to him, the last thing she needed was to share a joke. She needed him gone.

She snatched the glass of orange juice from his hand and slammed it on the table. A little spilled over the top. “You’ve got a bloody cheek. You turn up here, unannounced and uninvited. You take over my home, put your feet up on my sodding table, and help yourself to my juice. I don’t even know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”

He took his feet off the table and fixed her with a long, intense stare. “But I want to know you,” he said finally.

“Do you always get what you want?” she asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her tone.

He shrugged. “Mostly.” Then he grinned. His teeth were straight and white, probably designed by an expensive orthodontist. “And what do you want, Olivia?” he asked quietly.

“I’d like you to leave,” she hit back.

Those green eyes settled on hers again, firm yet kind, determined yet soothing. He rubbed his chin. “Can I be honest with you?”

“If you must.” She hated the sarcastic tone to her voice but needed the protection it offered.

His lips twitched up again. Clearly her snotty attitude wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. He tilted his body forward, and Livvy fought the urge to lean back.

“When I met you yesterday and you looked at me, your eyes were so sad even though you were clearly pissed off. I found myself wanting to see them smile. And I will… if you give me a chance. I don’t know why you’re unhappy, but I’d love the chance to put the sparkle back into those baby blues of yours.”

Livvy’s nostrils flared as she breathed out heavily. She clenched her hands into fists, holding them close to her sides so one wouldn’t shoot out and hit him on his perfectly square chin. Who the hell did this guy think he was? And the worst thing was he’d seen straight through her armor. How he’d managed to achieve that wasn’t a question she wanted to examine too closely.

“I’m fine,” she said between gritted teeth.

Gabe shook his head. He captured a lock of her hair and slowly fed it through his fingers. Livvy held her breath, unsure what her next move should be. Should she knock his hand away? Tell him—no, order him—to leave? Instead, she sat there like a deer in the headlights, allowing him to touch her.

“No, you’re not. You’re a beautiful, sexy woman on the outside, but inside, you’re an empty shell. You can’t be happy living like that, just existing. Don’t you want to feel vibrant, alive?”

Livvy jerked her head back, freeing her hair from his long, lean fingers. “Who do you think you are? I am perfectly happy with my life, thank you.”

“Don’t lie,” he said. “You’re not very good at it.”

Livvy launched to her feet, strode across the room, and flung open the door. “I want you to go.”

Gabe slowly eased himself to a standing position. He looked down at her, and their considerable height difference gave her the shivers. “If you give me a chance, I will change your life for the better. A lot better.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked with a sneer.

“Well, I don’t lack confidence if that’s what you mean.” He was teasing her again, a mischievous grin sending his full lips curving upward. He really was stunning—so stunning that Livvy wondered why he was there, wasting his time with her. He had to have an ulterior motive. What would a guy like him want with a girl like her? She was only half a person, and despite the great strides she’d made since that drunk driver wrecked her life almost two years earlier, she still had a hell of a long way to go.

“Why me? You don’t even know me.”

He blinked several times and rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I feel a connection to you, and I have no clue where it’s coming from. It hit me like a truck yesterday in the bar. I really wasn’t expecting it. I’m not in the habit of tracking down beautiful English girls I don’t know and offering to be some sort of emotional crutch. But there’s something about you—I can’t put my finger on it—and I know that if you let me in there, let me past the armor you’re using to protect yourself, I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

His honesty disarmed her, and when his hand came up to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes, she stilled. “You feel it too, don’t you, Olivia?” he murmured.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

A faint smile touched his lips. “How about dinner tonight? No strings. Sound good?”

“No. It sounds completely crazy.”

Gabe laughed, the sound rumbling deep and low in his chest. “Don’t you eat?” There he went again with the teasing.

Despite a burgeoning smile that threatened to emerge, Livvy kept her face straight. “Yes, I eat.”

“So let me buy you dinner. What harm could it do?” When she remained silent, Gabe continued. “I’m very persistent, so it might be better—and definitely less exhausting—to give in now. I’m offering steak and salad, not whips and chains.”

His comment finally made her break a smile, and before she knew it, she accepted his invitation. “Fine.”

“Great,” he said with a quick glance at his watch. “I have to go. I’ll pick you up here at eight.”

He strode across her apartment as if she had just been acquired in a business deal. Now that she’d signed on the dotted line, it felt as though he’d lost interest. She wrapped her arms around her body. What on earth had she agreed to?

“Dress for a nice restaurant,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked through the door. Then he was gone.

Agog, Livvy sank into the space Gabe had recently vacated. The fabric still felt warm from his body heat. She’d been railroaded, and yet she wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. Still, she could always cancel… Damn, she didn’t have his number. Then again, he’d found her, so surely she could find him.

She grabbed her computer, opened Google, typed “Gabe Mitchell” into the toolbar, and hit return.

Hundreds of pages were returned in a nanosecond.

Gabe Mitchell: Five things you may not know about the business tycoon.

Gabe Mitchell breaks into the Forbes top-ten list of the richest people in the world.

Gabe Mitchell and Tabitha Hale finally call it quits.

60 Minutes with tech tycoon Gabe Mitchell.

Another sultry brunette on the arm of business leader Gabe Mitchell.

That was why he’d looked familiar. He was one of America’s top businessmen. But unlike a lot of CEOs that preferred to conduct their business behind closed doors, Gabe Mitchell sought out media attention, and, in the States at least, he was seen as more of a celebrity than a businessman.

Livvy clicked on the last story and was faced with hundreds of images of Gabe at various events, with different beautiful women dripping off his arm. She looked closely and noticed that he was very rarely seen with the same woman twice. About two years ago, he’d had a serious relationship with someone called Tabitha Hale. Since their breakup, Gabe looked as though he’d had nothing more than a long series of temporary distractions.

A chill crept up her spine. Gabe Mitchell was a womanizer, a man who chewed through women like candy. And he’d set his sights on her.

Oh shit. What the hell had she gotten herself into?