Sleeping Beauty's Billionaire. Caroline Cross

and my backgrounds were similar, so he took an interest in me. In addition to teaching me everything I know about business, he also insisted I learn some other things.”

      “Like how to dance?” she said softly.

      “Yeah. Like how to dance. And dress. And use the right fork and choose the right wine at dinner.” Try as he might, he just couldn’t keep the trace of sarcasm out of his voice. “Hell, he even made sure I’d know how to behave at a big society wedding.”

      She flinched, just as he’d intended. Yet rather than experiencing satisfaction, he felt more than a little ashamed of himself. Colleen might be a spoiled, social-conscious snob, but he was no bully. Nor was he likely to make her regret giving him up if he kept behaving like a callow jerk still smarting from a long-ago rejection.

      Which he wasn’t. He’d gotten past that a long time ago.

      Yeah? Then prove it. See if you can’t locate a little of the Irish charm Clarice and Caroline and Angelina and the rest of your dates are always prattling on about.

      He drew Colleen slightly closer. Ignoring the treacherous leap of his pulse, he swung her around and reversed direction as they reached the edge of the dance floor. “So what about you?” he inquired, doing his best to sound mildly curious and nothing more. “Did you get your teaching degree?” Given her chic little haircut and stylish suit, it was easy to imagine her teaching French or Nineteenth-Century Romantic Poets to a giggly group of teenage girls at some posh private school.

      Some of the tension left her body. “Yes, I did.”

      “So what are you doing these days?”

      “I run a counseling program for gifted but at-risk kids at Jefferson High.”

      He missed a step. “You what?” Surely he hadn’t heard her right.

      Her voice held a totally unexpected hint of wryness. “Don’t look so horrified.”

      “I’m not. Just…surprised.” That was putting it mildly. Jefferson was his alma mater, a tough school in an even tougher neighborhood. Given Colleen’s privileged, sheltered, parochial-school background, he would’ve thought she was joking if not for the calm, steady way she was gazing up at him. “When did you start?” Even if she was being serious, surely this had to be something recent, some sort of fleeting, poor-little-rich-girl scheme to help the needy and downtrodden.

      “This is my third year.”

      For a moment he was so stunned he couldn’t think what to say. “And your family—your parents—are all right with it?” he finally managed. He simply couldn’t imagine the fashionable Moira Barone allowing such a thing.

      Colleen gave a slight shrug. “They’re not wild about it. But then, they were so over-wrought when I decided to leave the order that they consider my subsequent errors in judgment these last three years minor in comparison.”

      Her voice was so matter-of-fact it took a moment for her words to sink in. “You left… What order? What the hell are you talking about?”

      All solemn blue eyes, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I just assumed you knew.”

      “Knew what?”

      “After we broke up…and after college, I joined the Sisters of Charity. For seven years I was a nun.”