Meet Mr. Prince (14 page)

 

Cornelia was actually halfway back to the waiting area before the shock of Harry's announcement gave way to disbelief and then to indignation. Finally, a spurt of red-hot anger propelled her right back to his alcove.

“Harry Hunt,” she said, glaring at him, “I don't care how sick you are right now. You take that back. You are
not,
repeat
not,
going to walk away from me again. I refuse to let you. I want that ring you promised
me
and I want us to be married, and it's me who won't take no for an answer this time.”

Harry, whose eyes had been closed, looked stunned, but only for a moment. Then, a big smile wreathing his face, he sputtered, “When did you get so bossy?”

A moment later, heedless of the tubes and bottles and beeping machines, Cornelia was kissing his lips, although she was careful not to put even an ounce of weight on his poor, sore chest. Oh, she loved him, this big old idiot of a man. And the fact that he'd tried to free her because of his heart problems—which she knew without him having to tell her—only made her love him more.

She left him then, so his sons and daughters-in-law
could have their few minutes before they all got chased out of the CCU. But her heart was singing, because the last thing he said to her before she walked out was, “Pick our wedding day, Corny. Just make it soon.”

 

Zach couldn't sleep. He wished he knew what Katie and Georgie had talked about so long, but neither his daughter nor the woman he was obsessed with seemed inclined to tell him anything. He'd tried to talk to Katie, who'd politely said she had homework to do. After Katie had gone off to her room and bed, and he'd said good-night to Jeremy and Emma and seen them tucked in, he'd gone back to the family room to find Georgie.

But she was no longer there. And when he'd gone looking for her, thinking maybe she'd wheeled herself out to the kitchen, the only person he'd found was Fanny, who'd just fixed herself a cup of tea and was carrying it toward her own suite.

“Georgie around?” he'd said.

“She went to her room, Mr. Price. Said she had a headache and was going to go to bed.”

Zach had tried not to show how disappointed he was or how defeated he felt. The small burst of optimism he'd experienced when Katie's counselor had said she felt if he were just patient a little while longer, Katie might surprise him, had faded. Would he even
have
a little while longer? Georgie would be gone soon, and whatever chance he might have had with her would be gone with her.

All these thoughts, and more, tumbled through his mind as he tossed and turned in his king-size bed. Finally, close to two o'clock, he got up, grabbed a robe, stuffed his feet into slippers and very quietly opened his
bedroom door and headed toward the kitchen. He would get a glass of milk and maybe a slice of that chocolate cake Fanny had baked earlier today.

The apartment, because of its top-quality workmanship and superior insulation, plus the double-paned windows Zach had had installed years earlier to cut noise and the effects of weather extremes, was silent except for the faint sounds of nighttime traffic in Manhattan.

As Zach rounded the corner into the kitchen, he stopped dead. For standing in front of the open refrigerator, bracing herself on the door, was Georgie. She hadn't heard him or seen him, because her back was to the doorway. Nowhere did he see the wheelchair…or the crutches. Had she walked on that ankle of hers? No, wait a minute. He spied one crutch. It was lying across two of the chairs, partially hidden by the table.

He watched her for a minute, his heart beating hard. Her hair tumbled loosely down her back, and even though she wore some kind of knit pajamas, the light from the refrigerator shined through the soft material to reveal the outline of her long, sleek body. The side of one perfect breast was visible in silhouette, and Zach's body reacted immediately.

He wanted this woman. He wanted her badly. But if he were smart, he'd turn around before she knew he was there and go back to his room and stay there.

However, his brain wasn't the dominant organ just then, and before he could stop himself, he whispered, “Georgie.”

She startled and lost her balance.

Zach lunged toward her and grabbed her from behind, pulling her close and holding her steady. She was breathing hard, as if she'd run a race. Burying his head in her
hair, he closed his eyes, tried to get his raging desire under control. Her hair smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and something else, something uniquely Georgie.

She didn't move.

And then, slowly, still holding her securely, he turned her in his arms. Now they were standing body to body, and as if it were someone else controlling him, he drew her closer still, until he could feel the length of her legs against his, the swell of her hips, the warmth of her belly, the curve of her breasts. His erection strained against his pajama bottoms, and he didn't even care. Nothing mattered at that moment except the rightness of the woman in his arms.

When he dipped his head—not far, she was nearly as tall as he was—and captured her mouth with his, she sighed deeply and twined her arms around him.

Georgie.
The thought pounded through him, right along with the blood that coursed through his veins and the desire that exploded in its wake. The kiss went on and on, became two, then three, a feast for two starving people.

It was only when the clock on the mantel in the dining room struck the hour that reality struck them.

Georgie was the first to push away. Breathing hard, she said, “Please hand me my crutch.”

Silently, he reached for it and gave it to her. His heart was still pounding. Every part of him ached. He wanted her. He needed her. He knew what he'd done was crazy. Especially here. In his apartment, with his children sleeping close by. With Fanny sleeping close by.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have—”

“I'm going home tomorrow,” Georgie said, cutting
him off. She didn't look at him. “I can't stay here another day.”

And then, slowly, awkwardly—managing somehow not to make any noise—she turned and walked out of the room.

“Z
ach?”

Zach looked up from his desk. Deborah stood in his open doorway.

“I just got a call from Tommy's school,” she said. “He's running a fever and they want me to come and get him. I'd ask Jack to go, but he's tied up in a meeting in Boston today. I'm really sorry. I know today's a bad day for this.”

Zach suppressed a sigh. He didn't want Deborah to feel guilty because her son took precedence over a work overload here. He'd rushed home several times to be with a sick child. “You go on. Don't worry about anything. I hope Tommy's okay.”

Deborah gave him a worried nod, poked her nose in Georgie's office for a minute to say goodbye, then quickly left.

Zach eyed Georgie's partially closed door. It was
Thursday morning, and ever since the wee hours of Tuesday morning, when they'd kissed in the kitchen, she'd stayed away from him as much as possible. She'd gone back to the corporate apartment Tuesday after work, and she'd refused his help in getting there. She'd also refused to take the wheelchair, saying she needed to use the crutches because they gave her more freedom.

Zach got up and walked to the windows overlooking Eighth Avenue. He was surprised to see it was snowing. This snow looked wet, more like freezing rain, and he could tell, even from up here, that the wind was blowing hard. He hoped Deborah didn't have a problem collecting Tommy and getting home.

If conditions didn't improve after lunch, he should close down the office early. Once again, he looked around at Georgie's office door. He could hear faint tapping, which meant she was working at her keyboard. That almost-closed door seemed to symbolize everything that had happened—or not happened—between them. At least she hadn't shut it completely. Did that mean something, too?

He was sorry she was so obviously upset over what had happened between them. He wasn't—despite the fact that he couldn't see a way around their myriad problems. If nothing else, at least he'd held Georgie in his arms. But most important, he'd confirmed that what he felt for her was real.

Now all he had to do was figure out what he could do about it.

 

Georgie heard Deborah leave. She also heard Zach moving around in his office. She forced herself to keep working.
Stay focused. Don't think. And especially don't think about those kisses and the way they made you feel.
But that was like telling herself not to breathe, because those kisses, and Zach, were all Georgie had been able to think about for two days now. Two and a half days, to be precise.

Georgie's eyes swam with tears, which made her so mad at herself that she wanted to throw something. The only good thing about her life right now was her mother's happiness, and that was pretty sad.

Her mother was walking on air right now. She'd called Georgie Tuesday to tell her that Harry was going to be fine and that they were officially engaged.

“Oh, Georgie,” she'd said, “wait until you see my ring. It's so big it'll knock your eyes out. And everyone else's, too!”

Georgie actually smiled, thinking about that conversation. It was hard not to be happy for her mother. Even though Georgie's own love life was in Hopeless City.

And then, of course, there were her sisters, all of whom were either happily married or happily engaged. If only Chick would dump Joanna, then Georgie would have someone to commiserate with her. Georgie didn't
really
want Joanna to be unhappy just because
she
was, but still…it was hard to be the only woman in the universe without someone to cuddle with at night. She might have to get a dog.

On and on her thoughts went. Finally, disgusted with herself, she opened her drawer, took out her iPod, popped in the earbuds, chose her hard-rock playlist and turned the volume up loud.

Maybe she could blast away the voice in her head.

 

At four o'clock, Zach considered closing the office because the weather was rapidly worsening. But he saw traffic moving below, including a lot of cabs, so he knew
Georgie could get home okay, and that was the only thing that worried him. She still couldn't put her full weight on that ankle of hers and needed her crutches. He, of course, could walk home, no problem. It was only about ten blocks.

Unfortunately, he couldn't leave, because he was expecting a phone call from the governor, who only had the office number. Zach had called Fanny earlier to alert her to the fact that he might be late coming home tonight.

Georgie didn't have to stick around, though. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the hall, rapped lightly, then pushed her door open. Georgie, who'd been facing her computer, turned abruptly, as if he'd startled her.

“The weather's getting worse. I think you should go home.” His conscience pricked him about how tired she looked. Was that his doing? Maybe she wasn't sleeping well, either.

“I'm fine, Zach. In fact, I was planning to stay until six or even later.” She gestured to the stacks of files on her desk. “There's a lot to do.” Her eyes, green enigmatic pools, met his again. “I'm also going to take work home this weekend.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I want to get through as much of this backlog as possible, because I really need to get back to Seattle as soon as I can.”

“Georgie…” he said softly.

“I'd like to leave by the end of next week.” Her tone was perfectly polite, but it said,
Don't argue with me
.

“Look, can we please talk about the other ni—” But before he could finish, two things happened. She started to shake her head, and all the lights went out. Because
there were no windows in her office, the only light—and it wasn't much—filtered over from his office.

“What happened?” she said.

“I don't know. Either the building lost power or our floor lost power. I'm not sure how the electricity is set up. We've been here three years and have never had a problem before. Don't move. I'll go across to my office, where I'll be able to see a little better and call downstairs.”

Five minutes later, after a conversation with the security guard—unfortunately a new man who didn't have a clue about the electricity setup and who said the maintenance department had closed at noon because the supervisor had a funeral to go to—Zach realized they might be stuck without electricity for a while.

It wasn't until he'd looked outside that he discovered all the buildings in his line of sight were also dark. His heart sank. It wasn't just their building—something had happened to the entire grid they were in. And for all he knew, the entire city.

The sky was already dark because of the weather. Swearing under his breath, he walked to his open doorway. “Georgie.” He could just make her out now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. “Stay put. I don't want you falling. I'm going to go into the kitchenette and find the flashlight, and I think we have some candles in there.”

Five minutes later he'd found two votive candles, matches and a flashlight and had gone back to his office and lit the candles, then—flashlight in hand—walked back across to Georgie's office.

“C'mon,” he said, going behind her desk to help her with her crutches. “Let's get you into my office where
you'll be more comfortable. You can sit on the couch and prop your ankle on the coffee table.”

“But Zach, what's the point? Why don't we just go home? It's not like we'll get any work done now.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought of that while I was in the kitchen.”

“Then why…?”

“The trouble is, we're on the eighteenth floor. And if the power is out, the elevators are not working.”

It took a moment for the import of his statement to sink in. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

They both knew she could not walk down eighteen flights of stairs. One or two, probably. Half a dozen, maybe. Eighteen flights, no way.

And much as he would like to, he couldn't carry her. Even supporting her would be problematic, because he already suspected the reason she was still using her crutches was that she'd rushed walking on her foot when she'd fled from his apartment and that had delayed its recovery.

They were stuck here for the duration.

 

Oh, dear heaven,
Georgie thought.

Her heart was beating so hard she was sure Zach could feel it, for even though she was using her crutches, he had a firm hold on her. Even that touch, as casual as it was, had made her feel as if she might fall apart at any moment. The only way she'd been able to survive the past few days was to stay as far away from Zach physically as it was possible to be. She'd even kept her door at least partially closed the whole time she was in the office, because otherwise she'd have been too tempted
to look across the hall. She had to stay strong; otherwise she was doomed.

With the help of the flashlight, Zach managed to guide her across the hall and into his office without mishap. He settled her onto the couch, put one of the decorative throw pillows behind her back and the other on top of the coffee table, where she propped the still-slightly-swollen ankle.

“I've got to make some phone calls,” he said. “Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

“No, I'm fine, Zach. Don't worry about me.”
I'll just sit here and enjoy being close to you without you being able to see how rattled I am.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, Zach found out—and relayed to Georgie—that there was also no power at his apartment but that his children were all safely home. Fanny had said she'd been making a stew when the electricity went, but it was so close to being done that they could still have it for dinner.

“She told me not to worry,” Zach added wryly.

He'd also discovered that just about everyone in their building had been able to get down the stairs and out of the building except for one older wheelchair-bound man from the tenth floor. The security guard was on duty until midnight and told Zach he hoped the power would be restored long before then.

“Me, too,” Georgie said, although down deep, she thought life might be perfect if she and Zach could just stay there forever, only the two of them. Their own little desert island.
Oh, Georgie, what a mess you are!

After those two conversations, he tried getting hold of ConEd, but everyone in the city who had a working phone must have been calling them, because all Zach
got was a busy signal or voice mail. After leaving two messages, Zach gave up.

While he was still on his last call—he was using his cell phone—the office phone rang. It would work, Zach told her, until the charge ran out. This call, Georgie surmised from the conversation, was his anticipated one from the governor's office. Georgie leaned her head back and closed her eyes while he talked. She liked listening to his voice. Actually, she liked every single thing about him. Even his children. If only Katie liked
her.

Things might not be perfect if Katie's attitude toward Georgie was different, but at least then there'd be hope. Because right now this blackout or brownout, or whatever the heck it was, was the only hope Georgie had of ever again being alone with Zach.

Finally his call with the governor was over. “I can't think of anyone else to call,” he said. “I'm afraid all we can do now is wait.”

“Too bad we don't have a little TV that runs on batteries,” Georgie said, but she didn't really want one there. She had everything she wanted right here in this office.

The candlelight cast shadows on his face, on the room, everywhere. Zach got up and stretched. He looked out the window again. “The only lights down there come from the cars. The streets must be a mess with the traffic lights out and freezing rain still falling.”

“How do you know it's freezing?”

“It's sticking to the window.” He turned to face her and leaned against the sill. “I'm really sorry about this, Georgie.”

“It's not your fault. What I'm sorry about is that you're stuck here with me.” She made a face. “If not for me, you'd be home by now.”

“There's nobody I'd rather be stuck with than you.”

This was said so softly that at first Georgie wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. When what he'd said sank in, she could feel her face heating. The good thing was, he couldn't tell she was blushing in the candlelight.

Her heart skittered as he walked over to the sofa and sat beside her, leaving only a couple of inches between them.

“I don't want you to leave next week, Georgie.” His voice felt like velvet in her ears.

Georgie swallowed. Slowly, she turned her head so that she could look at him. There was just enough light in the room for her to see his expression, and what she saw made her stupid heart thunder like a triphammer. “I—I don't want to go, either.”

“Then why are you?”

She sighed deeply and looked away. “You know I have to, Zach.”

“Why? Because of what happened the other night?”

“Not just that,” she whispered.

“Then what?”

“Please, Zach…”

“Look at me, Georgie.”

“I…”

“Look at me.”

When she turned back to him, he pulled her into his arms. And just before his lips claimed hers, he muttered, “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Her last rational thought was,
Yes, I do, because I want you the same way
.

Afterward, she never remembered him removing her sweater or helping her take off the rest of her clothes or him shucking his with her help. What she did remember
was how right his skin felt next to hers, and how perfectly their bodies fit each other.

The couch wasn't long enough for them, but it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered to Georgie but this man and this moment. It was as if they were inhabitants of another world: a world of soft candlelight and warm flesh, a world of shadows and wildly beating hearts, a world of undiscovered pleasure and untold passions.